Message-ID: <6370eli$9712121600@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "ass.reposter" X-Good-Total-Length: yes Subject: RP: Captured Caroline (Best stories from my archive) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: somogy1@hotmail.com MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii; name="CAPTCAR.TXT" Content-Disposition: inline; filename="CAPTCAR.TXT" Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <34912996.5C49@hotmail.com> >From jmauer7782@aol.com Tue Dec 24 23:55:53 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!news-xfer.netaxs.com!feed1.news.erols.com!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline ("prologue" M/f, NC, B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 04:55:53 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 317 Message-ID: <19961225045400.XAA24672@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144813 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1995 ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Prologue: Just a Quiet Burger ============================= As I neared the state border I turned off the highway and towards the golden arches of an all night McDonalds. When I'd planned the route the month before this had seemed the best place to stop, food bought from here would still be warm when I parked up to change the plates. I parked towards the back of the lot close to one of the lights. I figured no one would be likely to park close by, I'd taken a lot of trouble to ensure that she was tightly gagged and that she was tied in such a way that she couldn't attract any attention. Still it paid to go to a little extra trouble and it also reduced the chances of some passer by spotting my home made tags. I still felt nervous and unsure, copying a stranger's tags so that you don't have to cruising a neighborhood with out of state plates is smart thinking and pays off when the jobs over and the cops are looking for clues. Yet I couldn't help feeling that this would be the night the idiot got his car stolen or his wife was rushed to hospital and that every cop in the state would be after that license. I was at most twenty minutes from the layover when I could switch mine back, I hoped to stay lucky that long. I got out and pantomimed looking for my wallet so that I could hang around near the trunk. Nothing, not a peep. I have to say that I started to worry, maybe she'd choked or something. She was a smart girl, a college student, she must see her situation, bound and gagged in the trunk of a car being taken who knows where, her best chance is when we stop. Then, just when I was about to panic and open the trunk I heard it, a faint muffled cry, so soft at first I thought it was imagination. I listened and there it was again full of desperation and hope, saying just one thing `Help me.' Satisfied that she couldn't be heard more than a few feet away I `found' my wallet and headed towards the doors. She was smart all right, she'd waited until she thought I'd gone before making any noise. A good idea spoiled only by the tiny amount of noise she could make. In some ways I was pleased, she was living up nicely to my expectations. The McDonalds was almost deserted, and was just about to switch to cooking to order. My fellow patrons consisted of a couple of truck drivers and a state trooper. I have to confess that threw me at first, but from conversations between him and the staff it appeared he stopped off here every night after his shift. I ignored him and carried on. I got them to refill my coffee flask for `later' and took a coke and the quarter pounders they had left as I didn't want to wait around for them to cook my order. The trooper said his good-byes and it was with some relief that I saw him drive away. Once my order was filled I too hit the road nerves on edge but keeping to a nice legal fifty as I headed towards the layover. I ran through all the events of the past few days again to see if there was anything that could tie me, Richard Cody successful thirty-something computer journalist, with Caroline Conway the struggling eighteen year old psych major currently in my trunk......... I can't exactly say when the idea of taking a sex slave first came to me. I suppose every man who has ever been lead on by a woman harbors certain fantasies, any guy with a female boss, any guy stood up or embarrassed or humiliated. What I suppose made me different from "any guy" was that I had been provided with the means, both financially and practically to carry out those fantasies and make them real. I could have a woman who couldn't say no, one over which I would have total control. I suppose in reality this started six months ago. At the time I was dating Samantha Prescott, former model and an assistant editor at Vogue. I must confess that I had fallen, she was lovely of course, but she also had an elegance and charm which completely won me over. I suppose I read more into the relationship that she did, certainly I was ready to commit. I was at that time building a house in New England and contemplating the Great American Novel. Then out of the blue she called everything off, the next time I saw her was in a tabloid escorting some baseball star to the Grammies. When she finally answered my calls she as good as told me that I was just a fashion accessory, that literary men had been a feature of the Fall season and that now that Spring was here she and her friends preferred more "physical" escorts. About a month later one of my editors called and suggested that I did a blab piece on computer porn. The newspapers and television were in a feeding frenzy about girlie pics on bulletin boards and S&M on the internet. Apparently a company in San Diego was marketing an S&M Multimedia CD-ROM, and had just won a court battle to allow it's distribution. With some reluctance I'd agreed, chiefly because the Samantha thing had caused me to fall behind with my column. A few days later the CD arrived. By then I'd done the few thousand words of condemnation required by my middle class publisher but I thought I'd try it anyway just to get some specific quotes. In the game you play "Dak Forest" a porno film actor. When the costar of his next flick " Nympho Nurses From Hell" is kidnapped by a Colombian drug cartel, Dak has only three days to rescue her and save the movie. The script was poor, the video clips included painful acting and in the course of the game just about every female character ends up bound and gagged either naked or in some kinky outfit. Part way through the game a character is introduced called Samantha Pressman, she is the editor of a fashion magazine who is kidnapped by the cartel and turned into the nymphomaniac sex slave Kitty, who acts as Dak's sidekick from then on. To anyone who knew her the similarities between this character and Sam Prescott where overwhelming, the actress even looked a lot like her. I found myself playing the same section again and again. Sam kneels before Dak and begs him to whip her, spank her, humiliate her. Dak of course refuses, but that and some of Sam's heavier scenes kept me hooked on the CD weeks after my article was printed. I started to ask myself if it was really that difficult to take a woman and make her your sex slave. I had a secluded house with a large basement that I'd originally designed as a computer lab. I had few friends who lived nearby so impromptu visits were unlikely. In addition I had the money and the time to make it work. Suddenly it became clear what I should do. I couldn't take Sam of course, the history of our relationship was too well known. For a wild second I even considered taking `Kitty' and driving her back from California. In the end I realized that I needed a woman with whom I had no contact, a complete stranger preferably from some distance away so that the police investigation wouldn't get too close to home. I looked at a map and selected a college town about three hundred miles from my home. Colleges mean young female students a good starting point for the selection of a slave.......... By now I'd reached the turnoff I'd been waiting for. This lead down a tree lined lane into a wooded hollow. I had come across the place by accident whilst scouting out the area a few months before and could hardly believe that I'd found somewhere so perfect. I'd spent a couple of nights here to assure myself that this wasn't the local lovers lane, or the favorite route of poachers. In the end however I had to accept that it was what it appeared to be, a rough dirt road leading to a small wood, and that the place was deserted at night. I drove carefully into the hollow, this wasn't the night to slide into a ditch or have a flat. I assured myself that we were far enough from the road and that no one was watching. Finally I got out, went to the back of the car and opened the trunk. Two large, frightened blue eyes stared back at me over the mass of Ace bandage that covered her lower face. The bandage was tight and her cheeks bulged out over it, in places there was a flash of silver where the bandage failed to cover the duct tape underneath. She made a mewing sound and started to struggle, I carefully checked her bonds. In a sense we were both acting out our roles, she as victim, I as kidnapper, we both knew she couldn't get free. She was dressed in the same outfit she had worn that morning to her Saturday job, a fairly expensive blue blazer and skirt, a white blouse, heels and stockings. I had pulled her long blond hair back into a kind of ponytail and secured it with some rubber bands, it cascaded onto her back like a horses mane. I had considered removing the blazer before tying her but this power dressing had reminded me of Samantha, so instead I had added to the ensemble. Her ankles where cuffed, good solid black leather bondage cuffs bought from a sex shop in New York, in many ways they matched her pumps and proved I could "Accessorize". At the moment they were fastened together with a padlock and linked by a long leather strap to her wrists. Smaller straps clinched her legs together just above and just below the knees effectively immobilizing them. I had done the same at her elbows but had used duct tape to secure her wrists and hands. Even her fingers where covered in a mass so thick it appeared that she was clutching a bowling ball. As well as securing her hands the mass also stopped another leather strap from biting into her wrists and it was this strap that was also secured to her ankles. After checking everything was secure I removed the strap that formed the hogtie. She groaned with relief and started to straighten her legs. I grabbed her by the arms and pulled her clear, then slung her over my shoulder and carried her round to the open passenger door and placed her inside. Closing the door I entered via the drivers door. For a second we sat looking at each other, then she started to struggle and I went back to the job in hand. "Stop that!" She turned and looked at me, her eyes framing a silent question. "No I'm not going to kill you if you don't force me to. If I'd wanted to kill or rape you I could have done it back in that alley and saved myself a lot of trouble. Now stop struggling, you've been alone in the trunk for the last three hours, if you couldn't get free then what chance do you have with me here?" She stopped and sat watching me with a nervous expression on her face. "Look, I have a proposal to make, we've got a long way to go and things are going to get quite unpleasant for you unless we can come to some arrangement." She continued to listen, her large accusing eyes watching me. "You probably need the john and you must be thirsty. I have a drink for you and some food. For you to eat it I have to remove the gag, you can scream all you want out here and no one will hear you, all you'll do is piss me off, clear?" She looked out of the car window at the quiet secluded woods. "Is that clear!" I snapped. She turned back to me and nodded, her ponytail bobbing behind her. "Ok, I want you to promise that IF I remove the gag, you'll let me replace it again when it's time to go. You'll be quiet, you'll eat the food then we'll head off again." She looked at me incredulously and I began to realize just what expressive eyes she had. "I suggest you think about this, you weren't able to stop me gagging you in the first place, and you won't be able to stop me now, all you'll do is force me to hurt you. Besides cause me trouble now and we simply don't stop until we get were we're going, I know which of us will suffer most." I could see the calculations in her eyes, here was definitely a bad place for her with no chance of rescue. I could see her thinking that the next stop may offer more possibilities and that she shouldn't blow it now. At length she nodded. "So let's check that we're clear on this. The gag comes out, no screaming or carrying on, you eat then you let me gag you again with no trouble?" Again she nodded so I told her to bend down whilst I undid the bandage. Pushing the ponytail away I worked on the knot then I unwound the bandage and dumped it on the floor. She started to protest when I started pulling the duct tape free but at last I removed it and the dense sponge rubber ball that packed her mouth. She licked her dry lips, "Water?" she croaked. I put the straw to her lips and she started to drink greedily. Finally she stopped and looked up at me, "Why are you doing this?" she asked looking at me with those big expression filled eyes. "Shut up," I said, "I didn't say you could talk." "You didn't say I couldn't." "You'll learn," I said and reached for the sponge ball. "No! " She said quickly, "Look I'm sorry. I'll be quiet, promise!" Without a word I held the first burger to her lips and she started to eat. There continued a strange silence until she was finished. I reached back, plucked the toy bag from behind her seat and started to root around inside. At length I found what I wanted and pulled out her collar. Seeing it she started to protest but then she caught my eye and sat meekly as I locked it around her neck. Then I pulled out a leather gag, this time she couldn't stop herself. "What..." "It's your gag." "But I thought...." She nodded towards the sponge ball. "That design is very effective but the adhesive from the tape damages the skin. This is a better long term solution. Now open wide.." "But..." "Are you breaking your promise?" "No but..." "Then open up!" She sighed resigned to her fate and opened her mouth to let me put the gag inside, then she bent forward as I secured the straps. The gag had a wide padded leather section that covered her lips and a strap that tightly fastened around her head. I could tell that she'd worked out that the ball in her mouth was a lot smaller that the last one. She made a number of muffled sounds that were much quieter that they should be. I think she thought that I'd overestimated the gag's effectiveness and she could exploit that later. I reached into the bag and got the pump. At first she didn't recognize what it was and it was only when the ball in her mouth started to inflate that she realized the truth. Eyes wide and bulging she started to protest, her whines becoming steadily more muffled as the ball inflated. When I was satisfied that she was gagged as effectively as before I replaced the pump in the bag and withdrew the padded leather blindfold that matched the gag. She spotted this and wanted nothing to do with it she shook her head, struggled and whined as I strapped it in place. I pulled back and she sat there shaking. Deprived of sight she felt even more vulnerable. Her almost covered face, gag and blindfold scanned the car as if waiting for something to happen. I left the car and walked around to the passenger side with the bag. Opening the door I swung her bound legs out and clipped a short length of chain between the D rings of her ankle cuffs. I removed the padlock joining the cuffs and then the two leather straps leaving her legs free but hobbled at the ankles. Then I secured another chain to her collar to act as a leash and pulled her upright. A little unsteadily she followed me to a tree where I secured the leash to a low branch. "I'm going to leave you here while you pee is that clear?" She tried to say something. "The panties?" She nodded, "No problem." She squealed as my knife cut them off. I watched her squat against the tree then returned to the car. In the trunk next to the spare wheel was my license plates, with some relief I removed my clever fakes and replaced the legal ones. I watched while she shivered by the tree. I wasn't concerned, even if she somehow slipped the leash she couldn't get far in a wood blindfolded and hobbled. At length I collected her and returned her to the trunk. I re-secured her legs and hog-tied them back to her wrists. She moaned and struggled back to her role as victim. "Hey sweetheart." Her leather covered face turned towards me. "I'm not a bad guy I know it can be boring in here. I have some entertainment for you." With one quick motion I slipped the vibrator into her pussy and turned it on low. A strangled moan came from behind the gag and she started to struggle as I secured her knees and trapped the buzzing intruder inside her. The moans and groans continued but the hogtie deprived her of the movement necessary to remove it, if of course that was her intention. Her hips moved as much as they could and muffled moans came from behind the gag. Once again I tucked the blankets around her for sound insulation and shut the trunk. In the eerie silence of the woods I could still hear her faint moans. Satisfied that the vibrator, with it's long life batteries, would keep her distracted until we returned home I returned to the drivers seat and drank my coffee....... >From jmauer7782@aol.com Tue Dec 24 23:57:42 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!uunet!in2.uu.net!206.229.87.25!news.sprintlink.net!news-peer.sprintlink.net!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 1 ("capture" M/f, NC, B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 04:57:42 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 413 Message-ID: <19961225045600.XAA24699@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:145399 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1995 ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 1: The Selection and Capture of a Slave. ========================================= It had been fate that delivered her to me. I discovered that a small software house was holding a product demo in the town I'd selected as my hunting ground. A small startup company made up of young graduates, they where based near the university. I was preparing another blab piece on innovation in the computer industry and so had an excuse to go, it seemed like a good opportunity to scout around. I think the company had been surprised when I accepted, I was the only recognized hack that had bothered to attend. In any case they were all over me, I got a private demo and enough disks and promotional material to supply the whole press corps. They were keen young men desperate to make a good impression. One even showed me the local night life and over some beers he told me of the best student hangouts, information which I stored away for later. The next day was to have been the main demo and having seen the package already I had intended to send my apologies and use the time to check out prospective targets. In the end however I elected to turn up for at least the first half hour. They had hired a couple of girls from a local modeling agency to look pretty during the presentation. Neither was exactly what I was looking for but on a whim I hung around until lunch to practice my stalking skills. The girls headed off downtown to a small restaurant where they met with friends. It was here that I first saw her, tall, shapely, blond, Caroline. With a decent makeup job and some reasonable clothes she could have made a good living on the modeling circuit. As it was she had a fairly poor dress sense, which reduced her from stunning to just good looking. I knew then that this was the one I wanted. Not only could I train her as my slave I could eventually mold her into the kind of escort to make the Sam Prescotts of this world seem ordinary. After her meal she said her good-byes and left. Once outside I followed her back to a local department store, here she worked as a cosmetics saleswoman. She seemed to be fairly junior, supplying free makeovers to women brought to the counter by more senior staff. I went to a rival company's stand and made some excuse about needing a last minute birthday gift. The girl was helpful and I managed to keep her distracted enough that I could watch Caroline across the floor. She had a certain intrinsic elegance that shone out despite her dowdy looks. Trade was slow and from the banter I picked up between the other saleswomen it became clear that Caroline was a student working here part time. Realizing I couldn't continue to hang around without attracting attention I purchased enough perfume to keep the girl happy then left and headed off for the rest of the day. I had bought a late model medium sized domestic sedan to use during the abduction. My researches had shown that this was a popular type and color and indeed I saw a number as I drove around. In the end I selected one and followed it to a small car park. Here a guy got out and went into an office building. I noted his plate then headed back to the store in time for closing. I followed from a distance as she left work and headed down a set of back alleys to a place where a small car was parked. I nearly lost her as she drove away but fortunately the traffic slowed her until I could catch up in my car. I followed her to a small apartment building near the university. I had caught her first name in the restaurant and from the bell box I saw that she was Caroline Conway and lived in 23C. The morning she was working in the store as usual, during the night I'd formulated a plan. First I hired a cell phone from a local company that were happy for me to take it for a few days when I claimed mine was damaged. This gave me a local number. I had spent most of the previous evening filling a small notebook with cryptic notes and I put a woman's name on the cover. I had noticed that Caroline carried a small black leather purse with her at all times. I guessed that they may be available from the store where she worked. Another quick `birthday gift' shopping trip and I had it's twin together with a woman's billfold. In the stores toilets I assembled my decoy. I placed about $300 in the wallet and dropped it into the bag, then added some old keys, some change, the notebook, a pen and some of the perfume I'd purchased the day before. I figured it would weigh about right and that she may not immediately realize it wasn't her own purse. I assumed that she would eat lunch in the same place and again fate was with me. I sat on the next table just behind her as she sat and gossiped. I paid for the salad I bought and while the waitress took their order I quickly swapped purses, stuck hers under my coat and left. I explained to the cashier that I was waiting for a friend who hadn't shown and that I was off to find out where he was. Would she hold my table for fifteen minutes until I got back? A large tip ensured she would. I knew I had little time, there was a key and heel place down the block and a hardware store a little beyond that. Out of sight I removed her apartment and car keys and ensured they had no ID. I stopped at the heel bar first, dropped off the car keys and paid for a duplicate set. With the excuse that my lunch break was almost over and I had shopping to do I left them with the promise that the keys would be ready when I returned in five minutes. Then I went to the hardware store where I got the apartment keys done quickly. In their toilets I quickly went through the rest of the purse. I was relieved to see that she had no bottles of medication or cards indicating a serious medical complaint. What she did have was a large number of unpaid bills, and of course a motive to disappear. Collecting both sets of keys I headed back. In all it had taken me ten minutes before I was back in the restaurant. The decoy had worked well, and it was still where I left it. If I couldn't get the purse back to her she would find the decoy and assume some mistake. If she dialed the number on the notebook she would reach the cell phone and I had a plausible story prepared about my absent minded wife and her talent for mislaying her purse. I would then arrange a place for an exchange. I doubted she would be suspicious but I was still relieved that she and her friends ordered coffee and were too distracted to notice when I successfully switched her purse back. I tailed her back to the store to ensure this wasn't a college day, then went to her apartment. I rang the bell first in case there was a room mate or a boyfriend, then went up and scouted things out. I discovered that she was a psych major struggling to meet the demands of the course and of her day job and that she apparently lived alone. She had awful dress sense seeming to choose baggy clothes that hid her figure and colors that didn't suit her. Although this was puzzling her wardrobe did provide me with details of her clothes sizes that would let me order some of the more exotic outfits before I collected her. The absence of a boyfriend and estranged letters from the family assured me she wouldn't be missed for some time. I was almost tempted to wait and take her then, but I didn't want anyone to place me near the scene so instead I decided to wait a month and returned home to prepare... The dungeon was close to finished. I had managed to do most of the work myself and the little extras I'd had to get my contractor to do (like putting water into the small basement room) were easily explained by my love of photography. Before collecting my model I went to New York on a fetish buying spree. Gags, cuffs, whips, chains, harnesses, toys and a reasonable fetish wardrobe started to fill the dungeon. I managed to pick up some reasonable strong secondhand furniture to liven up the place, the only problem now was collecting Caroline. And that wasn't going to be easy. I mapped out her movements as I knew them. Up at seven, out at eight thirty, work by nine, lunch twelve to one. The problem was not what she did but the fact that everyone else did them at the same time. At least a dozen people left her apartment building within fifteen minutes of her every day. I as I looked into it in detail it began to seem that there was not a moment when I could reasonably expect to have her alone long enough to get her and make off unseen. First her apartment was on the third floor of a small student tenement, there was frenetic activity all the time. Though I had keys to the apartment and could easily ambush her there day or night there was no method I could use to get her out of the place unnoticed. I had no doubt that I could take her, but someone was bound to mention the guy with the "drunken girlfriend" or the dude with "the big box" when the police started asking questions. I could wait until the early hours but then the back door leading to the car park would be locked so I'd have to take her through the front doors. I determined that it was never quiet enough for that to work. The apartment's car park was above surface and at the back of the building. Between 7AM and 8PM there was a back exit open to allow access. Unfortunately it was clearly visible from the road and worse it was a short cut to the nearest bar. Therefore an ambush in the car park wasn't on either. On TV of course it's all terribly easy, the heroine leaves her apartment and gets into her car. Suddenly the menacing bulk of the bad guy looms behind her and a gloved hand closes over her mouth. In the next scene she's unconvincingly bound and gagged on her own back seat as the bad guy telephones the hero to arrange a meet. Of course the heroine always drives a big domestic car, if she were wise and had bought a small compact Japanese model like Caroline she would have only needed to worry about midget and contortionist kidnappers. The only real opening was that she left the store slightly later than everyone else. I could in theory jump her in the back alleys leading to her car. Unfortunately *MOST* of them were well used short cuts which was probably why she felt safe using them. The only exception was an alleyway close to the store, here at that time I could expect to have her alone for perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes. Unfortunately the alley was too narrow for a car, it did however lead into an wider alley linking two blocks. This wide alley was quiet enough that I could get perhaps five minutes parked there before I congested traffic but simply put it was too busy for me to leave a car there during the kidnapping. For a while I played with the idea of stashing her in a dumpster while I went for the car, but even with the best gag in the world she'd make too much noise for me to leave her the twenty minutes I needed. I started to wish I knew more about drugs so that I could knock her out, but I knew that unless I was very careful I could kill her. What I needed was a way to overpower her and to make her invisible for perhaps twenty minutes. Then fate again stepped in. During another shopping trip to NYC I made the mistake of taking a short cut through a particular alley. About half way through I became aware of someone by my side, before I could react someone pushed something into my side and it was all over. A cop told me later that it was a stun gun, an electrical device that delivers the victim a debilitating charge. I figure I was out of it for perhaps ten minutes, which had been enough time for the guy to make off with my wallet. The police had got there so fast because a bum sleeping in the alley had flagged them down. I had to confess that I hadn't noticed him, and neither it seemed had my attacker, as the cops caught him at the next block. I slipped the bum a C note for his help before heading off to my destination. I was more careful from then but it got me to thinking. Over the next few weeks I practiced my capture technique using an inflatable doll part filled with sand. Counting in my head, I choreographed, handcuffing the wrists, gagging the mouth, securing the legs. When I could bind my unresisting vinyl victim in under three minutes I returned to the Big Apple and hired a woman who advertised as a "Professional Submissive." She made it clear that she wasn't into "rough stuff" but apparently rape fantasies were common to both her male and *FEMALE* customers. We worked out what she called a "scene." She would enter her bedroom as a "tired business executive." I as a passed over rival would jump her, bind and gag her then "punish" her for getting "My promotion." The plot was lame but apparently a popular one with her other customers, she offered several others but all I wanted was to refine my technique on a real struggling body. After the first time I made some changes, she was to make as much noise as possible at all times, she would get a hundred dollar bonus if she kept me from tying her for two minutes and I was allowed to tie her as I wanted. The first couple of occasions she was up by two hundred bucks but after that it became easier to subdue her. I tried out several types of ties and gags looking as much for the type of movement and sounds the victim could make as for the degree of immobilization or silence. Finally I was happy I had found what I wanted so I packed my equipment and started the long drive that would end with Caroline. That Friday I followed her around. I kept fairly clear of the store as it had security cameras and store cops but I attended her regular lunch break. Her two model friends were off to a trade fair in Chicago, bad news it seemed as she needed somewhere to stay for a few days. The landlord was apparently evicting her on Monday and she needed to move that weekend. With a put upon sigh one of the girls offered a spare key to her apartment but made it clear this couldn't be a permanent arrangement. For a second I considered rethinking my risky plan in favor of taking her there but I figured with my luck this apartment would be even worse than the current one. What was clear though was that I needed to move quickly, for some reason and despite the fact that I had intended to kidnap her the next day I felt compelled to move things forward. Trailing her back to the store I slipped off down back alleys to the place where she parked her car. Then I stole it, simple when you have the keys. I'd already been warned about the "bad" side of town so that was were I headed. I parked in a back street and left the car open with the keys inside before making it to a more busy street and flagging down a cab. I had been away from the car perhaps five minutes before the cab drove past the back street. By then the car had gone, destined for the chop shop or perhaps a new identity like it's mistress. I was dropped off in the town center and recovered my car from the car park. Next I drove out to her place. The block was as quiet as it got as I walked up the back stairs in my disguise. I was wearing jeans and a hooded track suit top and had a couple of books under one arm. As the "instant student" I went into her apartment unobserved. To my surprise the contents of the rooms had been packed into a number of largish boxes. Only a little food and the pillows and bedding were still out. Good fortune having smiled on me again I started to move the boxes down the back stairs to my car. Several people seemed to be moving at the same time and it became easy to loose myself coming in and out. I ensured that I was relatively unobserved loading the car and hung around in the stairwell to ensure no one saw me enter her apartment. It took perhaps twenty minutes to do the whole thing. I searched afterwards to ensure that nothing valuable was left behind but deliberately left the place untidy. As a final gesture I left the final notice on the table together with enough cash to cover the back rent. I reasoned the super would find it on Monday and assume she'd moved out. I'd put the boxes on the back seat of the car but I put the pillows and comforters in the trunk as added sound insulation. Driving to a secluded spot I got ready for the final assault. Under the track suit top I put on a harness to which were clipped the items I would need quickly. Looking back I wonder why I did this, my "appointment" with Caroline wasn't for some time and the harness was bulky. I reasoned it was best to get used to it so I didn't appear odd when I approached her. I drove back to the town center with the intention of hiding behind the dumpsters in the alley until she left work. Taking a large cardboard box half full of equipment to the alley I quietly moved one of the dumpsters a little to allow a six foot gap between them. I had just unpacked the box when a sob alerted me to someone's approach. Dumb as it was I peered around the dumpster rather than hide immediately. It was her! I couldn't believe it, she was walking down the alley sobbing quietly over an hour too soon! I panicked, there were just too many people around at this time for it to work, the store would be closing in a few minutes and the alley would fill with her fellow workers. The cold realization hit me that I'd overplayed my hand, that after all the planning and expense I'd been just a little too impatient. I couldn't take her now, but if I didn't she would discover her car missing and the things gone from her home. There would be police reports, questions, in essence Caroline Conway would become too noticeable to just disappear. I had failed and beyond that I was mad. Mad with Samantha for starting this thing in the first place, mad at myself for my impatience but above all mad at her, at Caroline, for having the ill manners to be early the one time it really mattered. Then before I knew what I was doing I was standing next to her. "Caroline?" I asked and as she raised her tear-filled eyes to mine I pressed the stun gun into her side and pushed the button. She made an "Uhhug" sound as her contracting diaphragm forced the air from her lungs. A pained and surprised look spread over her face as she started to fall. I directed her on to the open sleeping bag I'd just spread between the dumpsters, I looked down the alley both ways and saw no one, then I proceeded on autopilot. The handcuffs were first, unclipped from my harness and then fastened, one pair on the wrists the other on the ankles. Next came a dense sponge ball apparently designed for people to practice games near glass windows. It was quite unyielding and despite the lack of resistance it took some pushing in. I sealed it there with two quick strips of duct tape, each starting along the jawline, crossing over her lips and ending on the opposite cheek. Again I checked for people aware that this alley would be at it's busiest in a few minutes. Fortunately I was still safe so I continued to cover her mouth with strip after strip of tape. Then following the plan I strengthened the bonds before she could move again. Four leather straps, two above and bellow the elbows, the same at her knees. I quickly removed the handcuffs from her ankles and from the box pulled out a pair of bondage cuffs already locked together with a padlock. I strapped them on her ankles and she attempted to kick me and made the first sounds since the stun gun was fired. The sound was soft but still wasn't quiet enough, turning her on her side I gathered her hair into a single bunch, holding it with my right hand I used my left to move an elastic band from around the right wrist on to the hair. A couple of quick flips and the hair was bound into a pony tail and kept out of the way of the next stage. I could hear people leaving the shops down the alley. I thought of leaving her like this but she was still too noisy. Quickly and brutally I wound an elastic bandage around her head and over her taped lips. I knew it was really tight but at that moment all that mattered was the effect it had on her cries. Not only were they more muted, they also became lower and more guttural as she had to do more with her throat. I could see shadows moving in the far end of the alley. By now it was too late to escape. I would have to hide and hope that my idea would work. Rolling her on to her stomach I used a spare strap to hog-tie her wrists to her ankles. Satisfied I threw the other end of the sleeping bag over her and zipped it up. After some fumbling it was zipped, because she was near the bottom of the bag it closed over her head. Quickly dumping the other rubbish from the box, I used the top of the sleeping bag to pull her head up and pushed the box down over her upper body. Dumping half a bottle of cheap whiskey and some rubbish on the bag I stood the half bottle strategically next to the wall and slid behind the dumpster. She must have heard them because she tried to struggle and scream as the first people walked by. Of course she was too late, the passers by smelt the strong alcohol, saw the ripped sleeping bag and cardboard box and "saw" a bum not a kidnapped girl. Social conditioning being what it is the more sound she made the more she became invisible to the passers by. Just another street person best ignored lest they tap you for pocket change. I hid and watched, pleased that the plan had worked but still a little disturbed at how faceless society had become. As I crouched there I went through her purse, found a hastily written notice of dismissal from the store and understood the tears. Just before it was quiet enough for me to leave for the car, two of the women from the cosmetics counter where she worked stopped by the dumpsters. I froze convinced they had recognized something that I'd forgotten. In the end however they just lit cigarettes, and gossiped about how "that stupid bitch, Caroline" had pushed her luck too far. Perhaps recognizing the voices she tried to struggle and scream again, one commented that the cops should lock such people away and they flounced off with a self congratulatory waddle. Looking down on her as she sobbed inside the sleeping bag I began to think that I could be doing her a favor and that of all the people she knew only I her kidnapper, her rapist, her MASTER really cared what happened to her. With this in mind I checked the coast was clear and opened the bag. The handcuffs on her wrists were already biting, cutting off her circulation. The extra strain from the hog-tie was making it worse, she must have been in agony. I released the hog-tie and started wrapping duct tape around her wrists, when I had built up enough I removed the handcuffs and continued over her hands. I was able to force her to lace her fingers together with threats of a knife and taped her fingers into a solid mass. The result was that when I reapplied the hog-tie strap it bit into the tape not her wrists. She seemed happy that the pain had stopped so I re-interred her in the sleeping bag and box. Then I piled other rubbish around her and went to get the car. That trip took me twenty minutes and it was with some trepidation that I approached the dumpsters again. I pulled off the box and was relieved to see her gagged face rather than the street cop I'd half expected. She was sobbing, huge tears ran down her face. Quickly I blew her nose and warned her to stop blubbing or risk suffocation. I don't know how many people walked past her as she lay bound and gagged in the alleyway, but the experience of being so helpless yet so close to rescue had filled her with despair. She gave me little trouble as I moved her from the alley into the trunk of my car. I quickly packed the blankets and pillows around her to further muffle her and to minimize the risk she could somehow pound on the metal of the car. Satisfied I quickly cleaned up, dumping most of the stage dressing for my "bum" in the dumpsters. I started to throw the whiskey in too but an impulse stopped me and instead I placed it where only an invisible man would look and left to take my prize to her new home. >From jmauer7782@aol.com Tue Dec 24 23:59:47 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!uunet!in3.uu.net!152.163.170.17!newstf01.news.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 2 ("intro to slavery" M/f, NC, B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 04:59:47 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 323 Message-ID: <19961225045800.XAA24728@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144815 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1995 ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 2: An Introduction to Slavery ================================ Sitting there sipping the coffee and reviewing the past few weeks I felt the tension slowly drain from my body. I had her. Not only that but as far as I could see I had left no clues other than ones that pointed to her leaving of her own free will. Police don't handle missing persons cases promptly anyway because the majority of people turn up in the first few days. Seen from their point of view we have Caroline Conway, struggling student already being evicted who suddenly looses her job then disappears with all her possessions. Not a good candidate for being a criminal case. I packed everything away and started to put the pieces of her gag into the McDonalds bag along with the wrappers. At length I picked up a piece of tape with traces of her lipstick on it. The color seemed in some way wrong for her and it struck me as being a little odd that someone who made money applying makeup should botch her own so badly. Still this was a mystery I would have plenty of time to investigate at my leisure. Starting the car I left the hollow and headed back to the highway. I was about four hours from home a distance I intended to take in one go. I'd held out the hope of other layovers and chances of rescue to buy her cooperation and I wondered how long it would be before she realized she'd been tricked, assuming that she noticed anything above the persistent throbbing in her crotch. Not that it really mattered of course as she didn't have a chance to complain. The rest of the drive was fairly uneventful, I stopped for gas once at a small self service station. If I had been unlucky I suppose someone could had driven up and heard her, but it was about 2am by now and the cashier and I were the only ones for miles. It was about four when I pulled up outside my house. A stand of trees and a high brick wall shields it from the road so I could remove her without attracting any attention. Again I hobbled her legs, though this time she was more cooperative probably to speed removal of the vibrator that still buzzed inside her. Her thighs were slick with her cum and the sweat told of her exertions. Taking the leash I lead her into the house and down into the basement. I'd left part of it unfinished so that the odd nail or hole wouldn't look out of place. Originally I had planned a large lab under my office but now that section of the basement was hidden behind a swinging bookcase in the corner. For now I locked the leash over an exposed beam and left her there. Racing upstairs I changed into my master's outfit, a cotton shirt, black leather pants, boots and matching gloves, after all my first act would be to dress my slave appropriately and the least I could do was reciprocate. I returned to the basement where she was trying the extent of the leash and screaming behind the gag. Without saying a word I moved the bookcase and stepped beyond. This space had been designed to be fairly large. Originally I had intended to surprise my friends with this room and so had kept it a secret. That was useful now it's purpose had changed as it stopped embarrassing questions.. At the far end I had built a small room with a heavy iron door. Inside was quite spacious, enough room for a double bed, a chair, a table and a chemical toilet. That was her cell the rest of the place could best be described as the dungeon. On one wall I had cemented in a steel latticework that stood out a couple of inches from the wall itself. This provided ample anchoring points for straps and restraints. The other wall had a number of large rings for the same purpose. Near the door was a locked steel cabinet and an old wooded wardrobe. Going to the wardrobe first, I selected an outfit for her to wear from the clothes I kept there. The visit to her apartment had shown me that she was a conservative dresser. This outfit screamed slut and sex and was guaranteed to embarrass her. I had no doubt the kidnapping had rattled her, now I had to keep her hesitant, uncomfortable and unsure as I started to mold her as my slave. Most of the clothes here were off the shelf vinyl, leather and rubber stuff from the sex shops of New York. Being her first night however I went for something special. I'd ordered this ensemble from a specialist shop in LA. using the measurements I'd taken from her clothes. Their catalog had contained several more specialist creations which I intended to order once I'd broken her in. Next I unlocked the cabinet a removed some restraints, a new gag, a pair of shears and a small riding crop then returned to the main basement. By now she had given up struggling and just stood in the center of the room shifting her weight from foot to foot. I let her stew a little longer as I walked around and surveyed her fine body. Then I walked over and removed first her heels then the cuffs from her ankles. The sudden loss of height made the leash pull tighter at the collar and she whimpered slightly. I reached down, placed the shears against the hem of her skirt and with one movement cut it all the way to her hips. Of course I could have removed the skirt without cutting, but these clothes were her last personal possession, the last vestige of her personal identity. Destroying them was a symbolic act. The skirt was relatively simple, the jacket took more time, the blouse shredded in seconds. By now she was yelling and thrashing around, but the ever present bite of the collar kept her in check. I felt a little guilty cutting off her bra and garter belt, I loved lingerie, but accepted it had to be done. Finally I pulled off her stockings and she stood before me naked but for the bondage, her blindfolded face tracking backwards and forwards waiting for the next attack. Her breasts heaved as she sobbed silently. I looked at the matted triangle of her pubic hair, damp from the vibrator but still too thick for my taste, she had an appointment with a razor tomorrow. Next I moved a small table close enough to her that she could reach it with some effort and placed the outfit on it Then I cut the tape from her wrists and her hands before removing the blindfold. She stood blinking as sight returned. then immediately her hands flew first to the back of her head where the gag was secured then to her neck and the collar. In both cases she found small padlocks making removal impossible. She murmured something then turned to face me. I flexed the crop and smiled. "From now on I will call you slave or cunt, you will call me master or sir. You have no rights, I own you completely, even your body is mine, understand?" Her big blue eyes just stared at me incredulously. "I want an answer slave, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" This time when there was no answer I slapped her breast with the crop, she jerked to attention. I pulled the crop back as if I was going to strike her face, she held up her arms and cowered. "Understand?" She nodded. "Good, lesson one obey first time every time and you'll avoid punishment. If you don't you'll soon understand what pain really means. Clear?" She nodded, this time the response was much quicker. "You are here as a sex slave, as your master I will use your body as I see fit for my personal pleasure. You will obey me immediately and do the same for any others I designate. If you obey orders and don't try to escape you will avoid punishment, if not the severity of the punishment will increase. I won't kill you unless, you threaten my life or my security but push me too far and I can permanently disfigure you. Understand?" Again the nod, this time however she was looking at the ground so I put the end of the crop under her chin and raised her head so that I could stare into her frightened eyes. I pointed to the clothes on the table with the crop. "Put those on." She looked at them, on top was a shiny black latex bustier, at various points the rubber had been ribbed to provide support making it resemble a space age corset. She turned to me and I could see that she was thinking about it. "Put it on." She continued to just stand, I had brought some handcuffs with me in case she was difficult. I was going to cuff her hands and punish her when suddenly I saw a better solution. I pulled the table back out of her reach and smiled. "We'll see how you feel in the morning." I said and turned towards the stairs. I was halfway up them when I heard her frantic mewing. She had realized that eventually her legs would tire and that she would be choked by the leash. I went back down stairs. "Ready to cooperate?" She looked at the floor, then nodded. I offered her the bustier, but when she reached for it I snatched it back. "First, dance for me." She looked confused. "Obey me first time, every time remember? This is your punishment, I'm going to go easy on you this time. Now dance or I'm off to bed." Slowly she started to gyrate as much as the chain would let her. "Is that the best you can do? Sexy, Slave I want you to dance sexy." I didn't think she was really trying so I applied the crop to the sections that didn't move enough. She yelped a little but after about the first dozen she was doing the best she could. I could tell that the nakedness troubled her. Right now she would rather wear the kinky clothes than stay like this. Most of my blows had been to make her move her hands from breast or crotch, I figured if she wanted to touch them that much I should encourage her. I smiled, "I'm afraid that you've proved you don't deserve this fine outfit. If you want it then you are going to have to earn it piece by piece. Now cup your breasts and offer them to me. A muffled sound came from behind the gag." "First lesson!" I said as I settled back in a chair. She cupped her breasts in her hands and thrust her chest at me while all the time gyrating to some imaginary tune. "Now play with the nipples. When she hesitated I flicked the crop towards her. She sobbed but her hands slid up her breasts and her thumbs flicked the brown nubs which soon hardened before her. I tossed the bustier to her. "Slide it up and down your body." This time she complied quickly, making involuntary crooning sounds as the cold latex touched her hard, sensitive nipples. Finally I'd seen enough. "Ok now put it on." She struggled into it, all the time eyeing the crop fearfully. It fit her better than expected, forming a shiny second skin from just below her nipples to just above her crotch. It was so tight that her navel was clearly visible and her tits were trust up and out making them appear even more prominent. The hard brown nubs of her nipples stood to attention just above the top of the cups and just cried out for attention. I began to regret not bringing some clamps with me. Still there was time for that later. I held up a long black latex glove. "Play with yourself, you don't get it until you're wet." She glanced at the glove then at the stairs. Then, while one hand continued to stroke and fondle her latex covered breast and nipple, the other drifted to her clit where she started to finger herself. I looked at her, the eyes where now glazed and full of silent tears. I tossed her the glove. "Get off with it, " I said. She looked up eyes full of both humiliation and confusion. Grabbing the other glove I passed it between my legs then with one hand holding from the front and the other from the rear I slid it backwards and forwards across my crotch. She looked on horrified and I was sure she would die rather than do it. Then slowly with hands shaking she copied my action dragging the slick glove backwards and forwards across her cunt until the surface was wet with her cum. I made her repeat the procedure for the second glove. Her hands were shaking when she slowly pulled the gloves up her arms. I made her continue to play with herself and the tactile stimulation of the smooth latex seemed to seize her. Suddenly she closed her eyes arched her back and started to play in earnest, oblivious to my presence. At first I was tempted to whip her, then I remembered the discomfort she had shown at my seeing her naked. Quietly I slipped back to the dungeon and took a loaded camera from the cabinet. By this time she was so far gone that she didn't realize what I was doing until I already had three shots. She stood there horrified at what she was doing and of the thought that it was captured on film. I seized on her confusion and quickly tossed her the latex stockings with instructions to put them on. I took more photos as she pulled them up her legs and fastened them to the garters of the bustier. Next I passed her one of the five inch stiletto boots. "Fuck yourself with the heel." By now tears of humiliation and frustration were following down her face, she looked at the floor sniffed and brought the heel up to her cunt. "You don't get the other one until I see you cum, understand?" She nodded and started to move the heel in and out. I snapped more photos, she stopped, sobbed and tried to say something. "Keep it up," I said, "We don't have all night." She tried to say something again. I brought the crop down on one of her exposed nipples. She let out a muffled scream. "You'll get one every 30 seconds until I see you cum, now do it cunt or my god I'll make you suffer!" She started in earnest ramming the heel in and out of her hole. True to my word I slapped her when the 30 seconds were up, after that though it was unnescessary. She bucked and moaned her upper thighs and the tops of her stockings now slick with her juices. Finally she shivered and groaned, I just tossed her the other boot. "Put them on." She stood before me a vision in leather and latex, no slut or whore could look more perfect. From the bondage elements of collar and gag, though the sheer kinkyness of the outfit to her juices streaming down her latex clad thighs I surveyed my slave. Behind the shame and humiliation in her tear-filled eyes there still burned a trace of defiance, something I could break over the next few months as I molded her into my creature. "If you had obeyed me first time an hour ago we could both have been in bed by now and you could have saved yourself all this trouble." She nodded, tears still rolling down her face. I tossed her some leather cuffs. "Wrists and ankles, NOW!" She put them on without hesitation all the while looking at me with those big eyes. I stepped behind her and fastened the wrist cuffs together before adding a hobble chain to the ones at her ankles. Then I removed the leash and lead her to the chair next to the small table. Using some of the straps I'd removed earlier I secured her to the chair. She was unresisting, all rebellion temporarily crushed by humiliation and shame. I removed the gag and offered her a drink. She accepted then asked, "Why me?" "Because I wanted you," I said. "But I ha..." I slapped her mouth. She looked at me stunned. "Not *I*," I said, "Only a person can be an *I*. You are not a person, you're an object like any possession. *YOU* don't exist anymore and haven't done since the moment I took you. The only identity you'll have from now on is the one I choose to give you." She looked up, terrified tears welling in her eyes again. "From now on you will refer to yourself as `slave', understand." That's all you are for the moment, just a thing for my pleasure. I may give you another identity some day but you'll have to earn it first. Say, `I am a cock sucking slave slut.'" She shook her head her self esteem denying this last humiliation.. I brought the crop down hard on her right nipple, she yelped. "Say it!" "NO!" I spun the chair around. Now had access to her uncovered cunt and her legs were strapped to the chair where she couldn't close them. I whipped her exposed pussy. "I am a cock sucking slave slut! Please Master stop... " she screamed then started sobbing. I pushed the ball gag I'd taken from the cabinet between her teeth and fastened the strap. Her brief show of resistance had crumbled, I unfastened her from the chair and lead her into the cell. There I fastened the collar to a steel wire attached to a pulley wheel on the ceiling. The wheel ran on a small track which lead from the bed to the toilet. I kept her hands cuffed behind her but removed the hobble. She lay on the bed sobbing. "Hey cunt," She looked up, "Just something to contemplate, I haven't punished you for your insolence back there. I have something in mind but it will have to wait until morning, you might want to ponder that." I closed the cell door on her muffled cries. >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:04:28 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!news-xfer.netaxs.com!feed1.news.erols.com!howland.erols.net!cliffs.rs.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 3a("Opening Events" M/f, NC, B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:04:28 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 219 Message-ID: <19961225050300.AAA24804@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144816 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1995 ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 3a: Opening Events ======================= I don't think there has been a moment in my life that compares with the realization that I'd got her. My mind was full of possibilities, of the things I'd planed and of my slave. I fell to sleep that night with the image of my slave, bound, gagged and subdued in all her fetish finery burning itself into my brain. I awoke full of life, reveling in my achievement. Although I'd read of many cases of sexual abduction (in fact studied many in preparation for this) no one had achieved what I had done. I had a pretty coed bound and gagged in my basement, kidnapped from a busy alleyway in plain sight of at least a dozen people. I felt like a god, now at last I had a woman who couldn't say no, who wouldn't lead me on and then dump me as Samantha had. I chuckled to myself, for now she was my prisoner but soon I would start to train her as my slave. Slowly over the coming months, using torture, humiliation and sex I would slowly break her, destroying her identity, her self worth and gradually crushing her will until there would be nothing no mater how low or vile that she wouldn't do if I ordered it. I gradually let the megalomania sweep over me savoring every moment..... then I pulled myself back into line and started exercising the personal discipline expected of the master of such a beautiful slave. One feature of the house that had been in the design from the beginning was it's audiovisual distribution system. In happier times I'd intended it to allow Sam and I to access cable, satellite or video from any part of the house. It had proved extremely flexible and coupled with hidden camera's from an enhanced security system gave me access to any room in the house. Reaching for a remote I turned on the bedroom monitor and entered the security code that accessed the camera in Caroline's cell. Caroline slept fitfully under the dimmed lights of the room. Her position had changed little since I'd left her. Her hair was tousled though still held it it's makeshift ponytail. A few blonde strands had escaped and lay on her pillow next to the damp patch where she had drooled past the gag. She looked so helpless that I was half tempted to go down and wake her, but I'd been planning this for months and could wait. With remarkable resolve given the circumstances I turned off the monitor, bathed, dressed and went downstairs. In my haste to get Caroline inside last night I'd left the car next to the side door instead of in the garage. Whilst this wasn't a problem (the driveway has a gate) part of me wanted to get the car out of sight as soon as possible. I backed the car into the garage then started to transfer it's contents into a small storage room at the back. Most of Caroline's sparse belongings were destined for the bonfire, I'd only taken them to support the idea that she had moved out.. Some things however were more important and as I stacked the boxes for later sorting I came across exactly what I'd been looking for, a small box full of her personal papers. Finishing up I took the box inside and made myself breakfast. The box contained the sorts of things you'd expect, High School diploma, family photo's, letters. The real find for me though were the diaries, about a dozen of them ranging from exercise books to pretty little things with brass colored clasp locks. The collected thoughts of a girl from her early teens to the present, invaluable stuff for her kidnapper. Ultimately these would be the skeleton keys that would allow me to unlock her mind and give me access to the deep personal places I'd have to violate if she was ever really to be my slave. For now however they had a more practical use. The kidnapping itself had gone without a hitch, my "Bum" rouse had allowed me to take her in broad daylight surrounded by people. In addition the loss of her job and apartment had given her a good motive to disappear. For the moment her friends would think she was at home and her family would think she was still at university, it was perfect. Unfortunately it was also temporary. Sooner or latter some friend would try calling her at home or family letters would be returned unanswered. Eventually the alarm would be raised. The police would investigate and it could be that they would find something I'd overlooked. Alternatively they could find a witness who remembered the strange student in Caroline's building on the day she disappeared or someone who could place a man in the alleyway that evening. I needed to buy time for memories to fade or better yet, direct people's attention away from that area all together. In short I needed letters, cheery postcards sent to favored relatives, excited jottings to friends all in saying the same thing. "I'm alive, free and happy living in another state." I had no doubt I could get her cooperation, apart from physical torture I controlled all aspects of her life from food and drink to when and if she went to the toilet. Eventually when she'd been conditioned to obey that would be unnecessary, but for now I needed information. I needed a source from which I could verify birthdays and the existence of relatives. Whilst I intended for her letters to appear self absorbed and mention as little as possible that could be verified, missing a favorite aunts birthday could give the family a clue that something was wrong. Yet I had to be able to check her writings so that she could not pass a distress message in the letters. The diaries would be my verification. I started sorting through the books wondering how difficult it would be to break the spines and scan them into a database. Then suddenly I came across something odd. One of the pretty notebooks with the brass clasps had been forced. At first I assumed she'd lost the key though this didn't make much sense as the locks are principally decorative and a key from any of the earlier diaries would fit. Then I noticed that some of the pages had been torn out. The book covered summer of three years ago around the time of her fifteenth birthday. I decided to look into this later, for now however I divided my time between eating breakfast, reading her mail and watching "Caroline TV". Her bound form was just as tempting as ever. She thrashed around on the bed in a feeble attempt to wiggle free. Then she spent about twenty minutes rubbing her mouth against the edge of the bed trying to work the gag free. Finally, realizing that escape was futile she lay back down and sobbed. Looking down I found I was hard again. Summoning up my self control I managed to go to my study and knock off a quick thousand words on "Power PC vs. Pentium" for my New York publisher. In breaks for inspiration I continued through her mail and made a startling discovery. Caroline was the daughter of the REVEREND Charles Conway and his wife Judith. Quickly I paged through the photo albums until I found what I wanted. The family portrait was not inspiring, an older dour looking man, the picture of a bible bashing Baptist stood next to his younger dowdy, once pretty wife. He looked fierce and unbending, Judith looked down, the perfect picture of subservience. One of the reverend's eyes seemed fixed on the girls Caroline and her younger sister Anna, who stood with military stiffness before him. Now Caroline's drab taste in clothes began to make sense. Suddenly I could also see a way to get her to write me those letters. It would require some planning so I shelved it for now but the thought of it clawed at my mind and in the end I could resist no longer. I quickly finishing up the article, hurried to the kitchen and made her a light breakfast of cereal and coffee then took it down to the dungeon. In one corner of the room was a large heavy wooden kitchen table I had bought at a garage sale. It had looked like the kind of thing grandma Walton used to bake pies on. For my needs numerous D rings were attached to the frame, legs and top giving it a more sinister purpose. For now however I needed it to be just a table. Pulling it into the center of the room I cleared the top of bondage paraphernalia then added an old wooden chair to which I had also added straps.. Pausing I realized that this would be a good time to test the most impressive addition I'd made to the chair. Putting breakfast on the table I went to the locked cabinet and removed some extra pieces one of which I bolted to the chair the other I pocketed. Then I went to awaken the slave. She was lying much as I'd last seen her still bound and gagged, still in the latex outfit. My erection returned as I unfastened the wire from the collar, hobbled her and lead her whining and struggling into the dungeon. When we reached the chair she stopped struggling and stared in astonishment. From the center of the seat a long polished wooden phallus emerged making the chair look like it had an erection. She turned to look at me, eyes wide, head starting to shake. She tried to say something, mouth chewing helplessly on the ball. I pushed her towards the chair, she attempted to resist. Needless to say I won, five inch stilettos being hard enough to walk in let alone anything else. Hobbled, she couldn't even brace herself and soon she was hovering over the wooden cock. "It's lubricated," I said, "And it's not that thick. It's going to hurt less than the punishment you've just earned yourself." She continued to struggle, I really hadn't expected anything else, but when penetration by the wooden rapist was inevitable she relaxed and allowed me to settle her on it. Reaching into my pocket I produced its twin and waved it in front of her eyes. "Guess where this one goes slave." She looked at me beseechingly, knowing that she was helpless and silently begging for mercy. I crouched down and started to strap her ankles to the chair legs. It was a tough fight as she struggled to keep her legs closed. But she was in an impossible position and once her legs where strapped open I found it surprisingly easy to slide the dildo inside. The back of the phallus had a large bolt fastened to it and after burying the 7 inches of wood in the girl I pushed the bolt through a hole in the chair seat and fastened a nut to the other side. There was a small wrench velcroed to the bottom of the seat which I used to tighten the nut before pocketing it. Caroline and the chair were now effectively bolted together, there was no way she could stand or walk and without a wrench and a lot of time no way she could get free. Now, with her legs strapped open the wooden intruder was obvious but I could see that hidden beneath a full skirt it would be difficult to see anything amiss. I thought of the other chair I had upstairs, the one with the nice finish and just the mountings for the dildos. Dressed in regular clothes and bolted to the chair I could take photo's of Caroline with no obvious restraints. I smiled, the family could expect a few pictures with her letters. Returning to my slave I chained her collar to the table, freed her hands and pulled the gag from her mouth. Rather than remove it completely I let it hang around her neck like a strange fetish necklace, a constant reminder that I could enforce her silence at any time. She picked up the coffee and drank greedily, I topped up the cup. >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:05:24 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!newsjunkie.ans.net!newsfeeds.ans.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-stk-200.sprintlink.net!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 3B("Opening Events" M/f, NC, B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:05:24 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 388 Message-ID: <19961225050400.AAA24812@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144991 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1995 ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 3B: Opening Events ======================= She drained that also, then as I moved the cereal towards her she spoke. "Sir....." "I prefer Master," I said with a smile. "Err, Master.... Erm please let me go...... I promise I won't tell anyone about this. I want to go home, please." I suppose that my sadistic side had free reign at that moment because instead of telling her to shut up and eat her cereal I decided to play with her. "You must realize, Cunt, that taking you wasn't a whim. I've invested quite a lot of time and money in this affair. To return you now would put me at a lot of risk even if I could trust you not to run to the police. What could you offer me in return?" She swallowed nervously, calling her `Cunt' like that had rattled her self confidence. "I...I could suck you...." The look on my face must have told her this wasn't enough for in a whisper she added, "Or we could do it..... If you want." "I'm sorry," I said, "Where you offering sex?" She nodded, speechless. "In that case I want you to say, you can FUCK me Master, If you want." "You can.... fuck me Master. If you want." "Louder!" "YOU CAN FUCK ME MASTER, IF YOU WANT..." "Much better. Tempting as your offer is, the reality of your situation is that I could tie you to this table in five minutes and fuck your brains out whether you liked it or not. I could do the same tomorrow and the next day and the next. You can't bargain with what you don't own, and your body, together with the rest of you is now mine." She looked dejected then she started jabbering. Telling me I would be caught and punished and she wished I was dead and... In the end only the threat of the gag got her to shut up and eat. When she'd finished I hobbled her again and unbolted her from the chair. As I helped her up off the shit covered phallus I was reminded of something. "Did you use the John?" She looked at me speechless. "The chemical toilet, did you use it?" She nodded. "Good 'cos that's the last chance you'll have for a while." I took her to the wall and chained her to the gridwork whilst I collected a few things from the cabinet. First thing I did when I got back was try to gag her again. The gag was not strictly necessary as the room was soundproofed but it helped reinforce her helplessness and a knew she didn't like it. The ball gag was decorative but not very effective so leaving it where it was I held a padded gag against her mouth. This type of gag has a very large soft rubber mouthpiece fastened to a padded leather section that is strapped over the mouth. It was, I suppose a non inflatable version of the gag I'd fitted her with the night before. This time however she closed her mouth firmly and refused to open it. I smiled. "You must really like to be punished," I said, "It's going to take me most of the day just to work off what you've earned so far." Her eyes widened. "Oh yes you're going to be punished for last night, you didn't think I'd forgotten did you?" I could tell by the look in her eyes that *SHE* had forgotten." "Open up like a good girl and I'll forgive you this time. This is pointless anyway, the room is soundproofed so even without the gag you are just as helpless." She shook her head defiantly, I could see that a lesson was in order. Going to the cabinet I retrieved a posture collar and a roll of duct tape. Removing the ball gag from her neck I fitted the posture collar firmly in place. Of course she resisted but the ponytail made an excellent handhold and after five minutes her old collar was replaced by a high stiff one that stopped her turning her head. A couple of straps between the gridwork and the collar and she was fastened to the wall facing me. Slowly, deliberately, I stuck strip after strip of tape over her closed lips. I think she thought I was trying to gag her a different way because she just stood there smugly. She seemed a little amused when I went into her cell and returned moments later with a strip of toilet paper. One thing was certain however she wasn't laughing when I shoved a small ball of toilet paper up each nostril and sealed it there with tape. She started to cry out and thrash as much as she could. I just added tape if a leak appeared in her mouth covering and waited. All the activity burnt the air in her lungs quickly and before long she stopped thrashing, face red, eye's bulging as she strained against the bonds, lungs screaming for the oxygen I'd denied them. "Perhaps I should gag you this way instead," I suggested, watching as wild panic and desperation consumed her. Then suddenly I reached out and in one move tore the tape mask from her lower face. She let out an explosive breath and with mouth wide open drew in her first lung full of life giving air. I gagged her, shoving the mouthpiece into her wide, open mouth just as she finished that first breath. It was large enough to stay put without the straps so next I removed the tape and paper from her nose. Then I tightened the gag. I think she was just happy to breath as I had no further trouble. I held one of the toilet paper balls in front of her wide eyes.. "This is a lesson. You are helpless, so helpless I can take your life with toilet paper if I wanted to. First time, *EVERY* time slave, this is not optional. Next time you try to stop me gagging you the tape stays on twice as long, keep it up and I may decide that you aren't worth the trouble and leave it on, understand??" She nodded. That settled I continued with the preparations. I replaced the hobble with a spreader bar forcing her legs open into a wide triangle. I could tell that she didn't like being this exposed, but experience was starting to teach her that resistance could offer worse things than just pain. I left her wrists cuffed together but added straps to her upper arms that also helped to pull her shoulders back and push her tits out. To help this along even further I threaded a rope from her elbow straps to her wrists then from there through a D ring in the center of the spreader bar. Pulling on it pulled her arms down, arched her back and thrust the tits out further. Releasing her from the wall I dragged her under a ring to which I attached her collar. Next came the butt plug. She looked at me puzzled as I approached her with it then as I pushed it's greased surface inside her ass she squirmed and made small noises behind the gag. I started to unwind the wires attached to it, before packing her cunt with a large metal studded rubber dildo with similar attachments. I fastened the wires to a small metal box which I clipped to the spreader bar, covered twat and ass with a pair of snap on leather panties and I was almost set. I finally got to do something I'd looked forward to since I'd seen her nice tits. The nipple clamps had a small length of chain between them and must have looked like jewelry because she didn't start struggling until I clipped the first one on. Even then there was little she could do her body being forced into a tight stiff pose by the strict bondage. I clipped the second one on the other nipple then freed the rope fastened to her wrists and pulled until she was bent back as far as I thought she could stand. Then I tied the rope to the nip clamp's chain. Now any attempt to lean forward would drag on the chain which in turn would pull on the clamps, these were the type that bit harder as pressure increased. She moaned and tried to say something looking at me with large accusing eyes, still that I could fix. I fitted her with the padded blindfold I'd used on her the night before. The posture collar stopped any of the struggling nonsense this time and when I was finished only her nose was not covered by shiny black leather. Next I attached a couple of small arms from the box to the wrist rope where it went through the spreader bar. Then I attached two cables from the box to the wall, one AC power the other to the building ethernet. Caroline started to twitch as the dildo and butt plus started their low frequency vibration. As she squirmed she pulled on the rope attached to her nipples and slowly tortured herself. I looked at her as she winced and writhed, vision in leather and latex. The butt of the dildo was pushed tight, straining against the leather panties looking for all the world like a small cylindrical dick. As I watched it began to move as her cunt muscles squeezed it out and the tight panties forced it back in. I knew that the vibration though stimulating was not enough to bring her off instead she would have to stand there in a state of sexual frustration until I chose to release her. However being a considerate sort I'd arranged a small distraction. "Slave," She ignored me trapped in her private world. "Slave," I slapped her right nipple with the crop which got her attention. "Frustrating isn't it?" Of course she had no way of answering, the posture collar stopped all head movement and gag and blindfold dealt with everything else. "The good news is that the vibrator will go faster the further forward you lean. She lent forward a little and sure enough the pitch of the vibrator increased, of course the clamps did painful things to her nipples. She leaned back and suddenly when crazy struggling and screaming in pain. "Lean forward!" I commanded. she seemed in too much pain to notice me so I grabbed her shoulders and pulled forward. Immediately the pressure on the nipples increased and she tried to struggle more. I held her there and the pain subsided. "That was the bad news, periodically a small electrical shock will be administered to your cunt and anus. To switch it off you need to lean forward and hold the pose for five seconds. Every time the shock comes it will have a higher intensity and will take longer to shut off." Again she tried to say something. I continued, "Just before the shock you will hear my voice giving you an instruction. Obey it and the shock will be avoided. fail and you know what happens." I looked behind me at the camera that would let me watch all this from the comfort of my office then prepared to leave. Reaching up I released her hair from the pony tail and let the blond locks cascade around her shoulders. Finally I fitted her with a pair of light headphones which I attached to the AV. grid. She twitched and leaned forward obviously too late to stop the shock. I stood silently for a few minutes watching her move the little she could in response to my computer generated instructions. The moans issuing from behind her gag showed me that she had discovered the other benifit of obedience, the sudden high speed burst from the vibrators that came when she reacted immediately. The rewards were short so that she wouldn't be able to cum but in her painful position these flashes of pleasure would be very welcome. She started to obey the commands with increasing enthusiasm and I noticed that her cunt was already juicing up again. I watched for a few more minutes hen left to watch "television". The rest of the morning I worked, easily clearing the backlog that had built up during my preparation for the kidnapping. On the TV I watched as Caroline continued to thrash around. A window on my PC monitor showed the current score. Shocked twelve times she was currently on her 150th order and getting tired. I smiled, Caroline would have spotted immediately that I was using an aversive conditioning technique. As a method of brainwashing it was slow and primitive but it was also effective. As a Psych major Caroline probably understood that her brain was being conditioned to obey my voice. She may even have noticed that the headphones, gag, gloves and blindfold had enforced a kind of sensory deprivation and that the insistent buzz of the vibrator was robbing her of the ability to focus. However just as you can shoot a ballistics expert, her skills could not protect her against this application of her science. The persistent computer continued to pound orders into the primitive areas of her brain offering pleasure for compliance and pain for disobedience. I imagined the horror, to understand exactly what was being done to her mind, to realize that in a few weeks her will would be broken and she would obey me like a dog eager to get my approval. Perhaps some part of her mind realizing what was happening but powerless to resist...... Another rush of megalomania and then I shut down the program and went downstairs. She stood, legs trembling. I could tell that she wanted to slump down but the tether at her collar prevented it. Her latex stockings were again coated in her juices her body covered in sweat. I freed her ankles first holding her steady as she moved her legs for the first time in several hours. Next I disconnected everything, though I left the vibrator and butt plugs in their respective holes. Finally I freed her neck and fastened a leash to the collar. Taking the spreader bar along I lead her up from the dungeon and into the house. This is not as risky as it sounds, I have an excellent security system that warns me of any visitors and a gate ensures that they can only reach the house if I want them to. I sat her on a kitchen chair and gave her water. She said nothing but "Thank you Master" at the end all fight temporarily gone. n fact she seemed so submissive that my hard on returned and this time would not be denied. I decided to do something about it. With the gag still hanging from her neck I took her to the living room where I replaced the spreader and used the remaining ropes to secure her wrists to it. This resulted in a kind of hog-tie which left her kneeling before me as I sat in my chair. Unfastening my leather pants I pulled my hard dick free then pulled her head towards it. "I'm giving you the honor of blowing me slave, do it well and you will be excused punishment for the rest of the afternoon." I did consider telling her what would happen to her if she bit me, but I thought that could give her idea's. I had a ring gag for just this occasion but it was downstairs in the cabinet so I watched with some trepidation as her mouth engulfed me. I was intending to give her demerits based on lousy technique. Sam gave great head and I had come to expect a lot from my partner. It soon became apparent though as the tip of her tongue played lightly over the engorged head that Caroline was a virtuoso on the skin flute. I gasped, struck dumb as she sucked on my balls, next she deep throated me quickly and easily with no hint of gagging. I looked down at her blindfolded face, mouth around my dick a dribble of my precum on her chin and the only thought on my mind was that I was glad she couldn't see the stupid grin on my face. Somehow through the haze of rapidly mounting pleasure I remembered what I'd planned to do during this occasion. Hands trembling I reached for the remote control unit on the table beside me. I still don't know how I found the right button (she was licking the length of my dick like a lollipop at the time), yet I managed to push it. Then I sat back enraptured whilst somewhere in the bowels of the house a computer executed it's program. Ten seconds later the phone rang. We both stiffened I through release of anticipation, she in shock. Her mouth was still around my dick so using one hand to hold her head in place I answered the phone. The voice on the other end was that of the house management computer telling me the internal temperature, the selections on the VCR, the states of the lights, but for Caroline's benefit I pretended it was a friend a few miles down the road wanting to visit. "Sure Bob come on over," I said aware of the faint noises coming from my dick gagged slave, "But give me a few minutes ok, I was just playing with a new toy and need a few minutes to tidy up." I hung up, pleased she hadn't decided to bite me. It had been a risk without the ring gag but a small one. I figured the gag incident would stop her from trying anything too extreme for a while. I grabbed the side of her head, actively fucking her face for the first time. She wasn't stupid, she took this as a signal I wanted to finish, stopped teasing and instead started sucking hard and bobbing backwards and forwards in a strong persistent rhythm. I could hear the tiny metal clanking noises that the nipple clamps chain made as it struck the tight leather of the bustier. I felt I would die in ecstasy and wondered if Caroline would be rescued with me gone. My hazy mind was full of the headlines "Noted writer dies in kinky sex session, girlfriend unable to free herself dies of exposure." Then suddenly I exploded in her mouth. "Swallow every drop slave, every mark on the carpet is one on your hide." She needed no extra encouragement swallowing the cum with a terrified look on her face. I took hold of the gag around her neck and pushed the rubber mouthpiece against her lips. "Open wide slave, we have guests coming and it's time to make sure that you stay good and quiet!" She hesitated, but only for a second until she remembered the repercussions. The gag lesson was one that had been well learned. I strapped the gag tightly ensuring that she could make only the slightest of noises, then I dragged her across the room and behind a large couch. The spreader bar hog-tie arrangement was strict enough, but to avoid her rubbing her crotch against the floor I turned her on her back so that her heels and shoulders formed a tripod arrangement with her knees and pussy thrust high in the air. She moaned slightly at the uncomfortable position but hey, she's the slave. Still I did feel a little guilty after she gave such good head so I ran quickly to my office and got a little battery box for the dildo and butt plug. A few second to connect everything and she was buzzing away again. I'd set the device to a level that I thought was close to her orgasm point; it was possible she could get lucky and cum but restricted as she was I doubted it. "My friend is coming here slave," I said with maximum malice, "If he even suspects that you are here I'll make you suffer." Retrieving the remote I sat in a chair where I could see her clearly, then I punched in some numbers and waited. The house has an excellent surround sound system, over fifty compact speakers in discrete places in all the main rooms. Sam had contacts in the music industry and we had talked about hosting private concerts once we were married. With this in mind I had extended the system installing a number of mikes and a multitrack recorder so that I could record the events for later enjoyment. When Sam had dumped me the system had languished and the only use I'd made of it was during an impromptu game of "blindman's buff" I'd hosted during the house warming party. Still the success of that trick had inspired me to use it to test Caroline. Across the room came the sound of the door opening. "Ah Bob," My disembodied voice said, "What can I do for you?" "Sorry to trouble you Dick, but the portable printer I have seems to be broken." Bob Cummings was perhaps my closest neighbor and one of those people who are destined to be victims of technology. When he had discovered that I was a computer columnist he had immediately assumed that I would provide free technical support for his every problem. I had recorded this incident a few weeks before when his inkjet had run out of ink ("Oh, you mean I need to refill it??"). Since then I'd spent a couple of weekends making sure that it would sound like a real live event to someone on the floor in Caroline's position. The test was clear, she had been ordered not to draw attention to herself, yet as far as she knew a total stranger had just walked into the room. I watched her as the conversation turned to printers and refills. She moved occasionally, mainly thrusting her crotch in the air, but it was unclear if her intention was to get off or get free. In either case she made no obvious sounds. I began to wonder if she had discovered the deception, but I couldn't see how. The floors were concrete ensuring no conduction of footfalls and the sound quality was excellent. I sat and watched her as she made small movements behind the couch. This >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:13:13 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!newsjunkie.ans.net!newsfeeds.ans.net!news.aloha.net!svr1.pdx.gstis.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-chi-8.sprintlink.net!www.nntp.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 4a("domination" M/f, NC, B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:13:13 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 270 Message-ID: <19961225051200.AAA24929@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144819 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 4a: "A Timetable for Domination" ================================== I went back upstairs and made myself a coffee, thinking of my slave, of the plans I had made and of "Phantom Bob." As the scent of warm Java spread about the kitchen I sat and reviewed the days events. Months ago, when a real living and breathing Caroline was just a wet dream, I had planned out the first few days with my new slave. I had foreseen her fear, her anger and her attempts to escape. I had planned for each in turn molding her reactions and my responses into a mental document I called (with a typical writer's flare) "A Timetable for Domination." It started with the preparation for the kidnapping ebbed and flowed through the snatch and the training and the bondage and the sex to a scene that was painted so vividly in my mind's eye that it seemed almost real. Slave and I would enter a fashionable New York night club (dressed in tasteful fetishwear naturally). I would spy Samantha at the bar and signaling Slave to come close (she always walks two steps behind as a sign of respect for her master) I instruct her to seduce Sam by any means possible. Slave (she hasn't answered to Caroline in so long she doesn't even recognize the name) smiles and happily complies, this is far from the worse thing I've ever asked her to do and the thought of disobeying never crosses her carefully conditioned mind. Later I would reveal myself to Sam forcing her to do unspeakable humiliating things less I publish the photos of her lesbian fling. The circle would be complete, capturing Caroline to enact my revenge on Sam. Then using her to get that revenge. But of course that was fantasy and reality wasn't proving to be that simple. In my mental timetable things were certain and secure her reactions easy to envisage. First would be denial, a refusal to face up to the kidnapping and her new position as my sex slave. This sort of thing wasn't supposed to happen to her! This happened to bad girls who talked to strangers or accepted candy, or hitchhiked. She had avoided everything that her mother had warned her about and yet she was still bound and gagged, chained up in a guy's basement and forced to do.... things. I'd figured this attitude would probably persist for a few days then I expected her to redouble her attempts at escape. Then slowly would come acceptance and a listless despair. Finally under the strict domination and conditioning she would adapt and begin to accept her new life as my slave. I firmly expecting to be able to take her on our fated club date inside of two years. Yet the "Phantom Bob incident had worried me. I wasn't stupid I'd always realized that there would be a degree of variation in my plans once there was a real woman in the equation but I'd been surprised at how little trouble she's given me overall. She'd been kidnapped less than twenty four hours, I'd expected more of a fight until she accepted the hopelessness of her situation. That acceptance was the first step towards truly breaking her. I'd wanted it to be long and slow so that when it came the despair would be that much greater. Yet whenever I pushed her she seemed to back down and like a reed in the wind without resistance I couldn't break her. I'd expected her to try and signal "Bob" had thrilled with the thoughts of despair that would grip her when she failed and above all had looked forward to punishing her disobedience. The dirty scheme that had been festering in the back of my mind since I read her mail that morning had started to pull together ideas and plans that I'd reserved for later. The whole thing was just so obvious, so perfectly simple and yet inescapable that I just had to do it, but for it to work I needed an excuse to punish her. Over the past few months I'd read a lot of bondage fiction. Every time I stopped off in New York for dungeon supplies I'd included a magazine or two and a few videos for "research" purposes. One of the real dumb things that these stories tend to say is that there is always a reason to punish the slave. "The slave is always guilty," is a favorite line, written by a guy whose closest link with slavery is the pittance he pays his models. In truth you should never punish the slave for nothing, you are trying to impress your values on her, they must always be consistent. Obedience means reward, even if the reward is something she had as a right in her former life like spending time ungagged. Disobedience means punishment, you can always substitute a lesser punishment than the one you threaten and you can offer the possibility of redemption or reduction in exchange for some service but in general if she's bad she's punished. The secret (if there is one) is to treat the slave as you would a dog. Tell her she's a clever slave when she obeys and always do something in recognition. Punish or withhold something when she's bad, but only when she's bad. There are guys who beat their dogs constantly, this results in nervous anxious dogs. Then there are guy's who beat their women constantly and they have nervous anxious women. Strangely it's rare for either dog or woman to run away from such people, I still haven't figured out why. In my case I needed an excuse to punish Caroline, any excuse would have done but for whatever reason I needed her to know that *SHE* was responsible . This could be no arbitrary action of mine she must have done something to deserve it. It's a strangely human failing that someone is more likely to do something they wouldn't ordinarily do in order to make amends rather than to do you a favor. Right now I needed her apprehensive and willing to please if my new plan was to work. I flicked on the video camera and watched as she lay on the bed. I was again immediately hard and as I sat and drank the warm dark liquid I got more and more excited until in the end I was forced to shut down the monitor and think of other things, like photography. One of the fringe benefits of living with an editor at Vogue is your access to models, designers and photographers. One of the few people I met through Sam who I really liked was a talented fashion photographer called Andy Pearson. Most people probably haven't even heard of him but if you have ever glanced at the cover of a fashion magazine while waiting in line at the checkout chances are you've seen his work. Andy is a guy's guy, a big brash New Zealander who came to New York via the far east and a large chunk of Europe. He is also one of that growing club of Sam's cast offs. In fact it was he who helped me pick up the pieces after the wedding was canceled. I really don't know how I could have managed without his help and in the process he became my best friend. If Andy is a great guy he's a brilliant photographer. With seeming ease he juggles the twenty or so variables necessary to make a good photo, great. His pictures make his models beautiful and show off the clothes to maximum effect. A classic "Pearson" has a spontaneity about it that makes a carefully posed piece look like the kind of shot you would take of your girlfriend on an outing (well it *would* be if you were a top photographer, and she was a supermodel). What he does he does so well that at least one magazine calls the cover photo, which is of course the most important in any issue, the "Pearson shot". I've seen him coax fantastic poses out of young girls just starting in the business then slap down a "difficult" supermodel in successive breaths. He moves, molds and commands women in a way that few BDSM doms could even hope to match. In the way friends do we started to take interest in each others work. Through him my interest in photography expanded. I have always prided myself that I am a good photographer, and as my friends have married I have had enough invites "suggesting" that I might bring a camera to confirm this. Andy however transformed that. He has a love for the technology of photography and as time went on I taught him how to use computers and he taught me the tricks of the pro's. The fusion of our skills produced something that little bit different and was exactly what I would need if my plan was to succeed. For my plan needed photos, some the cheery snapshots to send to the Conway's, some more hardcore. Some would have to look *very* professional, some like they were taken by a talentless hack. With all the complexity for a second I considered giving Andy a call and asking his advice. Trouble was that he loved this kind of stuff and if he could I just knew he would invite himself over. So in the end I consulted the local yellow pages and found a list of photo suppliers in the nearest town. I would have to use what he taught me and just wing the rest. I ate a light lunch, one of those pizza bag things that I'd bought with the idea of eating cold on the road. Needless to say it was disappointing but I suppose it hit the spot. I checked on Caroline, who was still sobbing on the bed, then locked up and went to the garage. Inside was a large Chevy van that I'd bought because my main car, a 1958 Triumph TR2, doesn't have much carrying space. The van was a sort of half conversion, it was carpeted and had a couple of captain's chairs but with the exception of a largish bench seat on one side everything was removable for maximum cargo capacity. I backed out, careful to miss both the roadster and the big old car I'd used for the kidnapping. I looked upon it with some regret, it was a large powerful landboat that had been a pleasure to drive but my safety came first. I had already made arrangements to scrap the car and intended to watch it being crushed so that I was sure that the evidence was destroyed. For now I locked up the garage and headed for town. The first two photography stores I tried were closed, New England not being as good for Sunday shoppers as some places. The next had nothing that I needed and I was starting to regret not calling around first. However eventually, late in the afternoon, I found somewhere that could supply at least my basic needs. I spent about two hundred dollars mainly on film and paper and got a referral to another shop which catered to the local pro photographic circuit. The rest would have to wait until tomorrow though I had a hunch that I would have plenty of time. A quick detour to one of those DIY warehouses got me all the other things I needed. I arrived home with some apprehension half expecting a police car in the drive. Of course it wasn't there, the house was undisturbed and a quick check on my guest confirmed that she was ok and was even managing an afternoon nap. I put on another pot of coffee and started in earnest. I refrigerated the film and prepped a camera then took off downstairs to ready the "studio". I worked most of the afternoon putting up shower curtains and dustsheets to disguise the dungeon walls and cover the furniture. I set up lights and placed a camera on a tripod in preparation. Finally at about 7PM I was ready for my model. She awoke as I came into the room and said something behind the gag. I freed her from the wire, and checked her bonds, giving her time to get frustrated before removing the muzzle. She wanted to know what was going on, why I'd left her, what would happen next. I was starting to wish I could keep her gagged but the plan required that she should be able to speak so without answering anything I took her back into the dungeon. She blinked as we stepped through the doors, the lights in her room automatically dim to a level that lets the surveillance cameras work but allows her to sleep. Stepping from that twilight into the glare of the photofloods caught her off balance. "Master, what's all this for?" "For you slave," I answered innocently, "We're going to take a few pictures." I watched her swallow, her eyes panned around the room to the small table I'd set up near the camera. I'd put an array of vibrators, dildos and floggers out for her inspection, it didn't take a genius to figure out what kind of pictures these were to be. "No," She said, "I can't." "*I* slave? I thought we had this discussion last night," I said starting to up the pressure. She paused, her brain going through the mental gymnastics necessary to convert the sentence into a more acceptable form, when she finally spoke I had to admit she'd done a pretty good job. "Master, your slave, she really can't..... Please." "*MY* slave can and will do what I order her to," I said deliberately pouring as much menace as I could into my voice. "She's a slut whore, she likes doing slut whore kinds of things. Right now all this whore wants to do is jam this dildo up her crack while I take pictures. Isn't that true slut?" Her eyes filled with tears, "Please......" I pulled her close and stuck two fingers in her cunt, with her hands still cuffed behind her there was little she could do. "Isn't that true!" She nodded wordlessly, my other hand started to massage one of her latex covered tits and was surprised to find the nipple already hard. "Why don't you say it slut." "Your slave..." "NO!" I shouted, "Say this whore." "The..the..this whore...." ".....Wants to jam this rubber fuck toy up her crack until she cums." "Wha..." "...Wants to do this 'cos she's a cheap painted slut. Who needs to fuck. Anything will do as long as there's a tool inside her." She stood there, mouth working silently, tears once again in full flow. I continued to massage cunt and tit. "Does that feel good slave," I asked watching the confusion on her face, "You know why don't you? It's because you're a whore, you like being used by men don't you?" Still silence. "You wanted to know why I took you? It's because the first time I saw you I thought, now there goes one hot little slut I'll bet she fucks like a train." My hands continued but this wasn't a gentle teasing, this was an all out degrading grope. I pulled her close while burying more of my gloved fingers in her wet pussy. "I noticed the way you suck whore. You may be a parson's daughter but you ain't no choir girl. Now tell me, did you get that good playing nurse with the local farm boys or did you have an evening job I didn't know about?" I watched her intently, there still wasn't the reaction I'd expected, she cried, she whimpered but she didn't fight back. I needed a method to push this further but I couldn't think of a suitable way. >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:16:09 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!uunet!in2.uu.net!152.163.170.17!newstf01.news.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 4B("domination" M/f, NC, B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:16:09 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 301 Message-ID: <19961225051500.AAA24979@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144820 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 4B: "A Timetable for Domination" ================================== "Say it!" I hissed, "Tell me that you are a cheap slut." "I..I'm a chea...." "This whore!!" "Th...is whore...." "Sexy slave, say it sexy! I want you to pant in out like a bitch in heat! I want you to sound like the filthy little tart you really are." I grabbed a huge black rubber dildo from the table and waved it in front of her startled eyes. "Beg me for it slave! Nice and sexy I want you to tell me what a worthless whore you are, and how you'll do anything to have this up your crack." She started, stammering to fit all I'd wanted into the sentence, tears in full flow. Disappointed I decided to let her finish and snap a few photo's for the collection in any case. Now her eye's were adjusted to the light she had started to scan the dungeon. Most was covered with dust cloths to hide it's true nature all except for one corner which I'd been deliberately set dressing so it looked more like dungeons in TV shows. By that I mean that I'd fastened bits and pieces of bondage paraphernalia to the gridwork on the wall. There were leather masks, gags, hoods, cuffs and harnesses all strapped to the wall in a hap hazard fashion. Caroline's eyes flickered from one to the other deducing each time what they were used for and realizing with certainty that they had been bought to use on her. Finally her eyes had rested on one harness arrangement that I'd bought on the spur of the moment just before I'd gone to pick her up. I must confess to always liking the idea of girl on girl action. One of the contingency's that had worked it's way into the "timetable" prior to the kidnapping had been the idea of the capture being discovered by another girl, perhaps a coworker, and my having to overpower and take her too so that she couldn't identify me. It was in truth a fantasy, a wet dream, I cared too much for life and liberty to have risked a casual discovery. Yet the fantasy had been so strong that I'd even taken along an extra cuff and gag set just in case. It had also caused me to buy this item on impulse. The owner of the sex shop had called it a "Lezbo Harness", simply this is a very long dildo fastened to a pair of strap on leather panties. One half of the dildo goes in one girl and she uses the second half to fuck a friend and all the rocking back and forth brings them both off. Lot's of people wouldn't recognize one if they saw it, but the strange look on Caroline's face told me she knew exactly what it was. I didn't know what the story was but I could tell she didn't like it. Her concentration was broken and she stammered to a halt. And in that second I had an inspiration. "Pathetic slave," I said forcing my face close to hers, " I hope your sister is better." "M..my sister?" "Yes, Anna isn't it?" I asked cooly, "Quite a well developed girl for sixteen. She's obviously a little whore as well. When I found out about her I got to thinking what a wonderful matched set you two would make. Anna looks like a goer, I bought that harness today so that I could see just how you two would do together. You know sisterly love and all that" She looked stunned, shaken, I pressed my advantage. "I know where she lives, know where she goes to school. Being a farm girl you must know just how quiet the country is, how many lonely places she must walk through every day. Compared to you she'll be easy. Where you comfortable in my trunk? She's got further to travel than you have so if you have any suggestions on how we can make her more comfortable do speak up." Caroline went white, I continued to fondle her. "Just imagine how ironic it will be that the first your parents will know about your disappearance is when they try to tell you that I've kidnapped your sister." I smiled and made a dismissive gesture, "You know I think you're right, we'll hold off on these photo's until Anna gets here." I snapped my fingers (not easy when you're wearing gloves), " I know, we'll send a couple of prints to your mother, a momento to console her in this time of loss!" By now I was in a really evil frame of mind. "How about the two of you bound and gagged to the wall.... Better yet she's bound and gagged and you are eating out her pussy.... NO! of course, she's bound and gagged wearing the harness, you're kneeling bound and gagged in front of her and she's reaming your ass out!" I leered at her, "Has to be one for the album. Eh slave?" By now her tears where in full flow and through the hand I had buried in her pussy I felt her body tremble. "NO!" She screamed and kicked me knocking herself off balance and teetering on the tall stiletto heels. She would have fallen but for the hand I had inside her. Sure it was painful, but the hobble was still in place and so the kick was no real power. She caught her breath almost immediately, a look of horror spreading across her face as she realized the enormity of what she'd just done. She now knew that I could be brutal if pushed and that look told me that she'd remembered the incident with the gag that morning. "Please.... I'... this whore... is sorry." She must have seen the anger in my eyes. "Please master......this whor..re will obey. Please don't hurt me!" I dragged her towards the cell, she hesitated, her position was helpless, she couldn't resist and if she tried she risked further punishment. Yet part of her mind told her that if she was lead back to that cell she would have no way to defuse the situation. She sort of half fought as I returned her to the cell and reattached the wire to her collar. She begged, pleaded and wept as I filled a plastic beaker with water and brought it over. She was in full panic offering herself, any photo I wanted, anything at all, because she said she'd remembered that the penalty for attacking me was disfigurement and the incident with the gag this morning had convinced her that I would carry through. Now it was my turn to be shocked. My mind flashed back through everything I had told her about Rule 1 and the cost of disobedience. I could remember telling her something about threatening my safety but by that I'd meant trying to escape or seriously hurt me. Knocks and kicks I'd expected in the early days which was one of the reasons for the hobble. Somehow in her terror she'd misunderstood. She was heading towards hysteria and I almost considered correcting her but then she was rapidly approaching the frame of mind I would need for the plan. In the end I got her to drink then offered the ball to her. She wanted to talk, to plicate while there was still time but she also knew the penalty for refusing the gag. Terrified she opened her mouth and I gagged her fastening the strap a little tighter than was strictly necessary to reinforce my "anger". The moment I let go she rubbed her gagged mouth against my arm, making little noises, begging wordlessly for it's removal. I rechecked her bonds and made to leave she continued to whine, eyes huge, imploring. I looked down on her, "Sleep slave," I said, "Don't worry about the punishment, it will come soon enough." Then without looking back, I left securing the door behind me; and breathing a huge sigh of relief. It had taken a lot of effort but finally I had her where I needed her. Alone in her cell her mind was already magnifying her crime and it's imagined punishments. By tomorrow she would be ready. I worked on until about ten, mainly doing preparatory desktop publishing work upstairs. Like all writers I built up a hoard of unused material against the day when tight schedules or the dreaded writers block would leave me without copy. The kidnapping had been in the planning stages for several months and during that time I'd been collecting idea's and information in a similar way. I had a collection of things I'd intended to send to the Conways to make them believe Caroline was elsewhere. One of these, a holdout I'd only intended to use if they seemed to be going to the police, now had a more cunning use that would hopefully ensure that they would never know their daughter was missing. Finishing up I visited the cell before going to bed. The cameras were well hidden and there was some benefit in making her believe that I needed to check on her personally . The tight gag was giving her trouble so after giving her another drink (during which she was warned not to speak), I refastened it in a loose hap hazard kind of way. Again she rubbed her mouth against me and again I refused to ungag her and talk. I left and went to bed. Next morning I was up bright and early. A quick camera check showed her asleep in her cell. During the night she'd managed to work the gag off, not a difficult task as the ball can be rolled over the lower jaw even when the strap is quite tight. Tutting to myself I collected the post and answered my Email. I headed down to the dungeon. I'd done a lot of preparation work already, it's transformation into an impromptu photographic studio was almost completed and with the exception of some more equipment my primary need was for a little attitude adjustment for my principle model. I paused to collect some things from the cabinet and to lower one of the pulleys attached to the ceiling. I'd intended this rig to be used for a really big punishment and had everything necessary to suspend my slave several feet above the ground. For now however all I needed to do was keep her uncomfortable. She woke with a start as I entered the room. "What's the meaning of this slave?" "Meaning?" She was obviously a little slow in the mornings. I waved the ball under her nose. "I left you gagged slave, I expect to find you gagged when I return is that clear?" She nodded silently. "I left it loose last night so that you could sleep easier and you repay my kindness like this!" "It hurt...." "I know lots of other things that hurt slave," I said menacingly, "As you'll discover later." "Master please, I didn't mean to kick you!" "I'd thought it over last night and I *WAS* thinking of giving you a break...." "Oh yes, please master." "Then I find you've disobeyed me again." She looked downhearted. I was generally pleased, she was starting to call me master with none of the self-conscious hesitation that had troubled her the day before. For the time being I was letting up on her use of *I* but when *MASTER* became totally natural to her I would insist that she call herself *SLAVE* to emphasize our relative positions and the name Caroline would begin to be wiped from her mind. For the time being I gave her a drink then freed her hands. "Loose the top," I said. For a second or two she seemed confused. Then realizing, she slipped her way out of the tight latex bustier, letting her breasts swing free. She was about to remove the latex stockings but I stopped her. Instead I had her tighten the little draw strings in the tops that held them up without the garters. I think she was in a dilemma, happy to be out of the sweaty rubber she had worn for nearly two days but apprehensive that her torso was now naked. I had her use the toilet then fastened her hands, gagged her and lead her into the dungeon. I'd left a pile of straps and rods on the table and the look on her face told me that she didn't know what they were. The look of fear told me that she didn't want to find out. Amongst the pile the only obvious things were the snap on leather panties, butt plug and vibrator. Remembering the day before she gave me no trouble, spreading her legs when asked, in return I paid more attention to her pussy than was strictly necessary to lubricate the vibrator. A couple of snaps later and the tight leather panties held both intruders firmly in place. The vibration levels where set high enough to keep her occupied but not quite enough for her to get off. Still she had started an involuntary squirming by the time I got to the next item. For this I laid her on the floor then started by tying one of her ankles to one of the rods that formed the strange apparatus. I think at first she thought it was a standard spreader bar despite it's length. She only started to see the truth when I tied the other end along her opposing thigh rather than the ankle. I roped the end to her leg just below the knee then used another line to tie the ankles together. It's complicated to explain but in essence I had tied her in the standard "kneeling to propose" stance. One high heeled boot was planted flat on the ground, leg rising vertically to the knee which was bent. Along the thigh of this leg a rod was tied and it's far end attached to the other ankle. The other leg rested on it's knee unbound until the ankle was tied to the rod. A cord between vertical ankle and horizontal ankle held her legs in a rigid triangle. She realized immediately that this was very uncomfortable and tried to struggle into a better position but of course there wasn't one. I removed collar and gag, she knew better than complain guessing that this was one of the punishments I'd promised. I gathered her hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of the way then started fitting her with a head harness. First up was the gag, a large dense sponge ball attached to a strap. She gave me no trouble, opening up as it approached. I stuffed the rubber into her open mouth then tightened the chin strap, this ball wasn't slipping out. It took a while to fit everything but when finished a nest of straps covered her head in such a way as to hold the ball in her mouth and then clamp her jaw closed around it. As an experiment I seized one of her nipples and squeezed hard, almost no sound emerged from behind the straps though her tear filled eyes where full of pain. The harness was obviously too complicated to fit quickly but if I ever needed to transport her any distance this would keep her quiet enough to hide almost anywhere. In addition to the gag the harness had several mountings for other things like additional blindfolds, but two large buckles at the back were designed for attaching to a special posture collar. The collar was fitted to a rod which in turn snapped into the rod used to secure the legs. Fastening harness to collar, and collar to rod held the head firmly in place and meant that any tension in the head harness was transmitted directly to the rods and not the wearer. This was needed because the harness had a suspension loop on the top of the head. I attached this to the pulley in the ceiling then pulled everything tight. As an afterthought I used some spare cord to tie her wrists and elbows to the vertical rod then stood back and viewed my handiwork. She rested fitfully, all her weight on one high heeled foot and one knee, tied into a rigid triangle. Her gloved arms were pulled back along the supporting rod, dragging shoulders back and thrusting naked breasts outwards. It was a tight uncomfortable position but very little complaint could emerge from her well packed mouth. In fact as she stood there and the little beads of sweat broke out across her exposed skin the most prominent sound came from the vibrator, pressed hard against the taught leather panties and using them as a sounding board. The bondage seemed to have robbed her even of control of her internal muscles, for despite the dribble of juices that had started down her leg and the tiny almost negligible thrusting of her pelvis, the vibrator did none of the ins and outs of the day before. I left her like that for a few minutes then added the blindfold and a pair of earplugs. Alone in her sensory deprivation with only the pain for company I left her to contemplate the cost of disobedience. I busied myself cleaning the cell and changing the toilet, once I paused briefly and ran my gloved palm over the hard nub of one of her erect nipples. I thought I heard a sigh, though her gag was so tight that seems unlikely, in any case her fingers flexed briefly in response, that being the only movement she could make. For a while I just sat and watched her as the droplets of sweat rolled over the uncovered portion of her torso. I became aware of the tiny gasps and moans that escaped her mouth, sound that would h >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:21:14 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!news-xfer.netaxs.com!feed1.news.erols.com!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 5a("The Pearson Shot" M/f,NC,B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:21:14 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 234 Message-ID: <19961225052000.AAA25049@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144821 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 5a: "The Pearson Shot" ========================== Caroline was unsurprisingly exactly where I'd left her. She had been in the same position for nearly ninety minutes and was obviously suffering. I released her legs and then carried her back to the cell. Once there I stripped off the boots and stockings and gently massaged her legs until I was sure she was ok. She was still gagged with the harness and her arms were still tied to the rod. I went and collected some cotton rope and a few other things from the cabinet. On returning I replaced the boots locking them back in place with the simple fixings attached to the zippers. The stockings I left off because to be honest they badly needed cleaning. I liked Caroline's naked body but gloves and high heels make a lot of sense as a slave uniform. For starters they stop the bonds chafing wrists and ankles and thus make the slave more comfortable. Both are additional bonds; high heels make an excellent hobble and the glove's reduce the finger's tactile sense and dexterity which is always useful. In addition the gloves also mean that you don't need to worry about your slave leaving fingerprints lying around. If for example I was burgled and the police dusted for prints I wouldn't have to explain why those of a missing coed were in my house. And of course they look sexy. I used the cord to tie Caroline's legs together making tight cuffs of rope around her ankles and above and below her knees. In all cases I clinched the cord tightly to ensure she couldn't move. Next after warnings about talking I removed the harness and replaced her collar. She wiggled a bit as I removed the earplugs but then waited patiently as I released her wrists. She looked up with large doe eyes, the image of a disgraced sheepdog. I threw her a large sponge ball. "Gag yourself." She picked up the ball and looked at it doubtfully. "You removed the last one without permission, from now on you're responsible for being gagged. You'll put it in and you'll ensure it stays there! You have thirty seconds or you have another punishment session." Argument was useless and she'd been ordered to keep quiet. She paused for only a second then did something she had never done in her life before, with hands trembling she started to cram the hard sponge ball into her mouth. It proved to be quite a struggle as the ball was the largest I had. Finally however it was firmly in place a large phosphorescent yellow mass completely filling her mouth. I wondered for a moment if the people at Nerf had ever thought of marketing their product for this use then I casually tossed her a long length of white cotton cloth. "Tie it in place, good and tight." With my encouragement she placed the cloth band between her teeth and pulled it tight. I got her to tighten it until her cheeks bulged over the white cotton band and the horrid yellow ball was completely covered then I had her knot it firmly behind her head. Finally I tied her gloved arms as I had her legs and stood back to admire the view. Call me old fashioned but there is something about a girl tied with rope that always reminds me of Saturday morning serials. Modern restraints are good, I couldn't hope to keep Caroline as secure as I do without them, but they lack a certain spontaneity. In the old serials the young heroine would stumble on the villain's plan and end up tied with rope and gagged with a handkerchief struggling on the floor. Rope and cloth are common, you could imagine the villain digging some up on the spur of the moment but ballgags, cuffs and the like aren't the sorts of things you find just lying about. So Caroline lay struggling like the Republic heroines of a bygone age, the difference being that "King of the Rocket Men" was not about to save her. Rather than fasten the wire to her collar I decided to try another device. I stroked her exposed breasts listening to the renewed moans from behind her gag. When each nipple was good and hard I fastened a little clamp on it and tightened it with a small hex wrench. Once in place the clamp could only be removed with the tool. A chain was attached to the clamps and this I fastened to the bed frame. She watched silently the message clear, to keep her nipples intact she would have to lie quietly on the bed. "These are only temporary," I said reassuringly as I wiggled the chain. "They'll do until I can have you pierced." Her eye's flashed open in shock and a startled sound erupted from her gagged mouth. "Well, I told you the consequences of attacking me," I said, "I'm thinking of a little gold ring for each nipple and maybe one for your nose." She shook her head and made muffled sounds. For the first time since she got here she really struggled against her bonds, but the ropes held firm. I ignored her but reached down between her legs. "Maybe a couple down here," I said slipping my hand inside the panties. She looked horrified at the prospect. I smiled sweetly and cranked the vibrator up a notch. "Have fun!" I said and left bolting the door behind me. By now I was sure she was almost ready, she was tired, hungry and very frightened. Further she knew that she needed to get back in my good books as soon as she could if she was to avoid mutilation. I let her stew a while longer and prepared a light meal. As I ate I went through the list of models I'd compiled. There was quite some variety ranging from obvious professionals to girls who only worked part time for the local agencies spending their days serving behind shop counters or in restaurants. Vicky, the girl I'd initially selected, had been in what the manager had called his "Blue book" which was apparently for girls who didn't go through an agency. I had mixed feelings about this, on the one hand I wanted as little record of our relationship as possible but at the same time I needed her to be professional. Too much time can be wasted with an inexperienced model. In the end I risked it and gave her a call. I got her machine meaning she probably had a day job so I left the barest details and asked that she call me back. Then I pressed on with the plan. I found Caroline's makeup box amongst the things I'd taken from her apartment. For a girl who sold makeup she had a surprisingly limited range. Fortunately Samantha had left a lot of things behind when she moved out. An assistant editor at Vogue must receive a lot of free makeup samples because even the small box she had forgotten was packed to the brim with lipsticks, blushers and eye makeup. Sam had also left behind one of the dresses I'd bought her, a black silky evening dress whose only crime was not coming from a major designer. I moved them downstairs to the dungeon and added some things from the wardrobe. Recovering the leather blindfold and the crop I returned to the cell and removed the nipple clamps and the bindings for her legs. Her nips were still red and engorged and obviously very sensitive. I pulled her body over mine and placed one hand on her breast as I removed the panties. I ran my hand over her nipple and made some comment about silver being perhaps a better match for her complexion. She lay helpless in my arms weakly shaking her head and attempted to speak, her eyes large and frightened. I looked down at her. "Your choice," I said, "The nipples or the photo's." A look of relief spread across her face. "You must realize slave that in order to account for your actions yesterday there will be a penalty to pay. We will be taking a lot more photo's than we would have had you behaved and they will be a lot more explicit." She looked at the floor for a second weighing up her alternatives then she looked up and nodded eagerly. "You must follow my orders exactly, quickly and the best you can understand?" Again the nod. "If I feel that you aren't giving me what I want then the deals off." She nodded again. " IF I tell you to smile while fucking a pig, you'll smile big and bright as if you really enjoy it or tomorrow we fit you for a little extra jewelry, understand?" Her eyes had bulged a little at the mention of a pig, but she still nodded with vigorous energy. After removing vibrator and buttplug I replaced the cloth with her usual ballgag. I did it myself as I didn't want to untie her but I made it clear that I would still hold her responsible for presence of the gag then I fastened a leash to her collar. Reaching down I fitted the hobble on her ankles and covered her large questioning eyes with the blindfold. Then I led her upstairs. Once in the house I took her up to a bathroom on the second floor where I removed the blindfold, boots and hobble and helped her into the bath. Near the shower head was a D ring set in the ceiling nominally used to hold up a shower rack. With the rack removed the true purpose was apparent and I locked her leash to it. She watched as I started to undress, getting her first real look at my naked body. I'm not a big man, certainly not by porn film standards but I'd been ignoring this erection for the better part of two days. Now with the proximity of her helpless naked body it came back with a vengeance. Her eyes bulged as it slapped against my leg, I tried desperately to imaging people gutting fish (an old trick my father told me to rapidly get out of the mood). Then I stepped in behind her. For the first time in out relationship she was wearing more than I was though I think the irony of this was lost on her. I turned on the water letting it play over her head and down the flanks of her body. The light here was better than in the dungeon and I could clearly make out last summers bikini line. Almost as expected she wasn't radical in her choice of swimwear and there were large areas that had never seen sunlight. I left her for a moment letting the water do it's work. Then I picked up a bottle of shampoo and started to massage it into her thick mane of blond hair. My fingers worked into her scalp in gentle smooth caresses.... Years ago when I was a student there had been a barbers shop just off campus called Al's. Al had started the place back in '46 when he'd finally been let out of the army. For thirty years Al's had 2 barbers chairs and 4 seats in the waiting room and in all that time he'd never been overcrowded. Then in the summer of '78 he'd taken on a girl called Maria to wash hair for him. Maria was some relative from a distant part of Al's huge Italian family wanting a little vacation money. She also knew the secret of washing hair. She did it slow in gentle sweeps punctuated by heavy washing, massaging the scalp with long strong sensitive fingers... For the first time in thirty years Al's had to take bookings, with his usual style Al bowed to the inevitable and bought another chair in the waiting room. Maria proved very popular with the male students and was invited to all the best campus parties for the rest of the year... And Caroline, bound and gagged in my bathroom was now benefiting from Maria's legacy, eyes closed, she moaned softly, as I shampooed her hair. We rinsed, rewashed and conditioned, and I began to feel the tension leaching from my slaves body. Right now her captivity was forgotten, lost in a primal grooming ritual that was already hardening her nipples. Then I moved on to the rest of her, spreading fragrant shower gel on my hands and massaging it into her soft flesh. Her small noises and the pattern of her breathing told me of her enjoyment as I soaped her firm pert breasts. She had been encased in sweaty rubber for the last few days and before that was the trip here in my trunk now she was enjoying the sensation of being clean again. I pulled her closer letting my hands follow the trim contours of her athletic body. Suddenly I felt her gloved hand slide over my cock and balls. I stiffened, thinking this was an attack but instead her strong latex covered fingers started to play up and down my shaft. I'd clinched her wrists so tightly that her hands were effectively one unit. If she was playing with the head she was limited to the shaft for the other hand but closer to the base she teased my balls with deft flicks of her gloved fingertips. In response my hands moved down into the silky smooth folds of her womanhood, feeling the heat building there. She looked up at me with those large doe like, need filled eyes, making little noises behind her gag, rubbing her wet slippery body against mine. Begging for release, begging for... But from the back of my mind came a little voice telling me that she was playing me for a sap, thinking she could buy me off with a body I already owned. Soon other voices chimed in reminding me that she'd had something throbbing away in her holes for the best part of a day. Sure she's horny, it said, and we can USE than. So I pushed her away and continued to rub her down all the while trying to imagine people gutting fish. >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:22:30 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!news-xfer.netaxs.com!feed1.news.erols.com!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!newstf02.news.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 5B("The Pearson Shot" M/f,NC,B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:22:30 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 293 Message-ID: <19961225052100.AAA25064@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:145400 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 5B: "The Pearson Shot" ========================== As slowly and erotically as I could I dried her and powdered her naked body. Styling her hair more difficult but in the end I had her rich golden hair pinned up high on her head in the elegant slightly conservative look that I needed. All this time she gave me no trouble and even when I replaced the boots, hobble and blindfold she seemed content to let me manage her. It was clear she was taking our deal really seriously and didn't want to risk screwing it up. I lead her back to the dungeon and locked the iron door behind me, before attaching the collar to a ceiling ring near the table and removing everything but the collar. I slapped the crop on the table top next to a small pile of leather clothing. "Put them on slut." "Yes Master." She was meek, enthusiastic and willing to please, in fact willing to do anything but face the alternative. The outfit consisted of a soft leather strapless corset and matching briefs, a pair of normal patent high heeled pumps, a pair of silk stockings and a pair of black leather opera gloves. She seemed almost happy as she put them on. She had intended to finish with the gloves but I stopped her, hobbled her ankles and chained the collar to the table. Next I brought out the makeup. "Ok slave make yourself pretty." She looked confused, "But Master these aren't my colors..." "They are now. Do it slave or maybe a flogging will persuade you?" She started, a little hesitantly at first and I had to point out what colors to use, but in the end she looked radiant confirming everything I had seen in her that first day. I had her put on the gloves, she frowned a little when she discovered that the top three inches seemed stiff but when I tapped the crop she speedily put them on. I had to remove the collar before I helped her into the black evening gown. She was obviously confused wondering just why I would want to dress her in this way. Her ankles where still fastened to the chair but with the collar gone this was the closest she'd been to freedom since I took her. I started to change that. First up were the cuffs, thin silver bands about an inch and a half wide that looked just like the kind of bracelets some women wear over long gloves on social occasions. These however were the product of a fetish jeweler in San Francisco, once closed a special tool was needed to remove them. In addition each had a tiny D ring set into the underside, though small they could support a persons full weight. For the time being I fastened them with a cable tie. Next I squeezed the tops of the gloves and felt them ratchet down until they were tightly gripping her upper arms. Each had a small black D ring in it that I joined with a thin black wire effectively pinning her arms to her side. I added a thin black choker, again from a distance a fashion accessory but hiding a thin leather collar, the silver clasp really a small strong padlock. I freed her wrists then refastened them with more wire. Finally she spoke, "You're tying me so that no one can tell from a distance." Her voice was flat and calm like someone discussing a science experiment. I was unfastening her ankles from the chair, "Very good slave," I said. "No gag?" She asked raising an eyebrow. "I don't think it would go with the ensemble, do you?" I handed her a small black leather clutch purse, it was difficult to hold with her hands bound like that but somehow we managed. I positioned her in front of a black drape and took my first shots. She looked poised and elegant, a young professional woman on her way to a show or to a fancy party. She could have been a lawyer, a doctor or a young executive. In fact she was a slave her bonds invisible to a casual observer. I felt the strange little thrill of knowing something others don't. The bonds though elaborate were never really intended to be used in this way. I've always liked the idea of secret bondage in public places. In a year or so when Caroline was fully my slave I intended to use them to have bondage sex in a box at the Metropolitan Opera. For now they were just to remind her of her status as my slave . When I felt she had started to relax a little I moved her in front of one of the covered walls and used a thin black wire to secure the back of her collar to a strategic ring. Then I freed her arms, took a couple more shots then reached back and picked out a bottle of Champaign. This was part of a case Sam and I had picked up in Paris during the fall fashion shows last year. I had intended to use it for the toast at our wedding. Now I would use it to Christen my slave. I uncorked the bottle (never pop it, that would be vulgar) then handed her a Champagne flute. I started to fill her glass. "Master, what is this for?" "For you slave," I said, "To celebrate your capture." I could tell that this wasn't a celebration she was keen on. "I can't," she said. "Nonsense, this is your Capture Day party. You get it only once a year like your birthday. Play your cards right and in future years you'll even get presents" She seemed surprised by the mention of presents but the idea that it was an annual event rammed home the fact that her captivity was permanent. "But Master I don't drink." "Yes you do, " I said lightly. "I don't....." she began "Slave you really don't get it do you?" I said, "You drink, smoke pot, molest little children and fuck animals. You'll do what I say, when I say it. What Caroline Conway did or didn't do is of no interest to me or my slave. Now drink up." She drank. I had her smile as seductively as possible as she brought the glass to her lips. Click! Had her tongue the glass suggestively her bright red lips framing the action. Click! I had her down two glasses of the Champaign in rapid succession knowing that it would hit her empty stomach and head straight into her bloodstream. I had her fling her skirt around a little, taking a couple of fast shots while I waited for the alcohol to take effect. Not drunk but with her inhibitions starting to be suppressed she was ready to go further. I took a couple more, of her holding the purse, of her presenting the back of a gloved hand to the camera. Then I gave her a second glass. Caroline holding a glass to her breast, eyes large, suggestive, she offers the other to the camera. Click! I took a couple more then offered her the bottle. Caroline refilling a glass. Click!. >From then on I made her go steady, as I didn't want her sick or unconscious. Her pupils were large and she'd giggle and tell me how nice I was compared with some of the maniacs she'd heard of. She even asked if she got to choose what her Capture Day presents were. Realizing she had no real tolerance for alcohol and was rapidly getting very drunk I said nothing and just kept taking photo's. Caroline, highheeled foot up high on a table pulling back the skirt to reveal her stocking tops. Click. I told her to loose the dress which she managed surprisingly quickly. I gave her back the glass and took another of her holding it to her leather covered breast as a companion piece to the earlier shot. Adjusting the lights I pulled away and took a longshot. Caroline stood as I told her, with one leg slightly bent, patent heels shown to maximum effect, then the long majestic line of her silken legs. The stockings, a designer pair with a monogrammed patterned top, ended in garters about four inches below her crotch. From then on up it was all black leather. The briefs, a tiny black triangle which would have barely covered the thatch of her crotch hair (if she'd had any), were so tight that you could easily make out the outline of her pussy lips in their shiny surface. Yet these were nothing compared with the corset. Tight and black it hugged her body like a second skin from the bottom where it's garters held up the stockings to the top where it's soft underwired cups shoved her breasts up but barely covered her nipples. The slick black gloves flowed up her arms, leather fingers caressing a wine glass with obvious suggestions. Black gloved hand raising the glass to those fabulous cherry lips. Click! A fetish goddess in all her finery, her orientation ill defined, which is how I wanted it. I took another couple of quick snaps then tossed her a crop. Suddenly she was a leather Dom. I had her flex the crop and look menacing, had her slap it against her hand, along her thigh. Then I had her ditch it and threw her a ballgag, taking a whole series of her gagging her own sweet mouth. I was pleased to see that the lipstick I'd chosen matched the color of the ball exactly. More shots of her handcuffing herself and she was suddenly a leatherclad slave girl. I had her kneel and look up beseechingly feeling all the time the heat in my crotch. Keeping her hands cuffed I removed the gag, adjusted the tripod down to her level and undid my fly. My erection almost slapped her in the face. I had her give it a sexy, hungry look then use her talented mouth on it while the motorwind kept the shots coming. Suddenly I exploded into her mouth. Somehow in the ecstasy I'd managed to pull out freezing my erect cock, her rapt face and the small trickle of cum down the side of her mouth forever on film. I gave her the last of the Champagne to wash it down then freed her hands. I could tell she was very hot so I decided to do something about it. I pressed the top of the empty bottle against the tight leather panties and wiggled it back and forth a little. She looked at me doe eyed, the idea of what I wanted invading her drunken mind. She shook her head silently. "Fair enough slave," I said, "But in ten minutes you'll be tied in that cell and in no position to do anything about this." I rubbed her damp pussy through the leather pants, she gasped. She looked at me, I nodded at a mat on the floor. In the end her needs overcame her, she lay, tore off the panties and started; first fingering and then at my insistence using the neck of the bottle. I wondered what Sam would think of our wedding wine being used like this, but it was only a passing thought. I kept taking photo's and suggesting combinations all the time wishing I had a video camera. At length I stopped her, she resisted a little and pouted. "You promised!" "Don't worry slave," I said rolling her onto her stomach so that I could strap her hands together, "I'll see to you personally!" Did I detect a little shiver of anticipation? In any case she gave me no more trouble as I bound her arms and replaced the ballgag and hobble. She seemed a little confused when after snapping some shots of her standing I came over and released her hair from the pins that held it up. It cascaded in rich golden blond curls around her shoulders and it's wonderful aroma flew up to greet me. If the change of hairstyle confused her it was nothing compared to what happened next. Over her face but under her hair I fastened a soft leather mask. It took some adjustment but once in place the effect was outstanding. The mask covered her face from the hairline to her cheeks in a smooth expanse of black leather leaving only the area around her mouth and her large expressive eyes uncovered. Framed by the canopy of her blond hair and matching the rest of her leather ensemble it transformed Caroline into a sexy bondage mystery model. She seemed a little surprised but gave me no trouble as we reproduced some of the earlier shots with a small handheld camera. I finished off with one of Caroline on her back, the wine bottle cruelly inserted in her sopping pussy. Then as I promised I took her, pounding away at her soft flesh, driving deeper into her hot pussy to the accompaniment of her husky moans and the squeak of leather. Unlike last time she was desperate and almost willing. There was no suggestion of a struggle and I knew this time she would not argue, in as much as a slave can consent to anything this was consentual. Sam had always liked to be on top claiming that it gave her more sensation. I didn't like it that much but it did seem to do something for her. Now I changed our relative positions lying on my back and positioning her on top. Her arms were bound but she had strong legs and arching her back she came down on me again and again screaming into the gag with every thrust. I knew I was close but she had been a good girl who though she didn't know it yet had just delivered her sweet ass into my hands. I felt I owed her something. So the images of fish gutting returned holding off my final explosion just a little longer, allowing her to cum in a climax so violent that her bonds struggled to contained it, and her gag barely muffled it. When we had finished she tried to say something behind the gag then almost immediately fell fast asleep as if only the sexual frustration had kept her conscious. I gently removed the gag and replaced her own collar. Then I carried her sleeping form back to the cell and reattached the wire. She looked so content as she lay there newly washed blond hair framing her masked face that something gripped me and I found myself kissing those soft lips in a moment of weakness that could only be the wine. The warm after sex glow consumed me and suddenly I wanted to sleep. Yet somehow I managed to fight it because I had to know how the photo's had come out. Brewing up enough coffee to keep half of Colombia awake I started in the darkroom. The pictures were good. Most had been posed to match the desktop publishing work I'd already done and as a result to my critical eye lacked a certain spontaneity. These I left to dry as I worked on the other prints. Part way through I stopped and went upstairs for more coffee and to microwave a snack. Whilst I was waiting I scanned one of the masked Caroline photo's. Part one of the plan went into effect. Firing up the computer I used a free trial account from a well known commercial service to telnet a university computer in Scotland. I then used a bug in the old copy of VMS it ran to give me superuser privileges. The machine was one of the primary internet routers for northern Europe and it proved easy to fake a message that would appear to come from Caroline's university account. I posted the picture to an internet sex group via an anonymous server. Next I sent a covering message telling those interested that my name was Elizabeth (Caroline's middle name) and my interests included kinky clothes and bondage. I was new to the internet I said, and wasn't sure if this would work but if it did more would follow. I also hinted that Elizabeth would be willing to pose for money and had photosets for sale. It took a while to clean up the various security logs and shut down but it was worth it. Anyone looking into Caroline's disappearance would have to conclude that she was really desperate for money and would do almost anything to get it. It was early the next morning before I found what I wanted. The photo at first sight looked like any of the others I'd taken. Caroline looked out at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of despair and great need. A silent solitary tear streamed down her smooth cheek towards her stoppered mouth which almost blended perfectly with its color coordinated ballgag. Her full, shiny, red lips wrapped around the ball and the black leather strap cut into the corners of her mouth. She had been bent at such an angle that her nipples peeped slightly over the soft leather cups and the straps binding her arms helplessly behind her were just visible. I looked at the eyes again and saw the beginnings of an acceptance of her fate. This I knew was the one. It would never grace the cover of Vogue and would remain forever on the wall of the dungeon, but though unseen it's quality and life marked it apart. There could be no doubt, this was the Pearson Shot. >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:28:31 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news-out.internetmci.com!news.internetMCI.com!news-out.internetmci.com!pith.uoregon.edu!cliffs.rs.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 6a("Paper Chains" M/f,NC,B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:28:31 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 178 Message-ID: <19961225052700.AAA25180@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144854 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 TMQuin@ibm.net ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin (tmquin@ibm.net) ====================== Chapter 6a: "Paper Chains" ========================== When the alarm went off the next morning I felt compelled to get "medieval with it's ass". Yesterday had been too long, my physical and mental exertions with Caroline too intense (and the wine too potent) for me to get up just yet. So I drifted in that strange twilight between sleep and reality and started to dream......... I woke with a start, cold but sweating. Scared, confused, I had the weird feeling that I'd just had a bad dream,. Since childhood I'd been unable to remember my dreams, even the nightmares. I racked my brain but it was gone, leaving a creepy feeling behind. My shaking hand found the remote and turned on the TV. I punched up Caroline's cell my half conscious mind afraid of what I might find there. Much to my relief she was as I had left her. She was still dressed in the leather lingerie, still masked with her hands strapped behind her. I watch uneasily, looking for an indication that something might be wrong but she slept deeply even snoring a little and after a few minutes I accepted that she was OK. I did a quick personal audit. I was thirsty, the taste in my mouth and the suggestion of a headache convinced me that I'd had far too much wine. I stumbled to the bathroom and stuck my head under the cold tap for a full minute. After the first thirty seconds I even remembered to turn it on. I've never been an excessive drinker, I am what is best described as a "depressed drunk" beyond a certain point I'm no longer having fun. Still I'd never had the shakes before, and though I could rationalize the incident as a combination of bad booze and bad conscience it had left me with an uneasy feeling that I was missing something important. I popped an aspirin and a couple of vitamin pills. Before taking a particularly long shower. I dressed and though still a little woolly remembered to get Caroline's pills from the bathroom before heading downstairs. I wrapped the pills in tissue paper and placed them in my pocket. Then I padded into the kitchen and started making breakfast. While I was waiting for the coffee I punched up Caroline's cell again. She lay on her side, her mouth slightly open and she was drooling a little as she slept. It looked as if I wasn't the only one who would wake up with a headache. I watched her as she slept. Just last week she had been struggling to make enough money to save her apartment. Now she was dressed like a whore, tied up in some guy's basement. I wondered what her dreams were like? One thing was clear, the "honeymoon" was over, the breaking of Caroline was about to begin. So far it had been a promising start. After three days of captivity Caroline seemed to be adjusting well. I was especially pleased with her obedience. Not only was she less trouble than I expected but it seemed to take a lot to make her disobey me. She was learning very fast, her use of the words MASTER and SLAVE was far beyond what I expected at this stage and the adjusting of her sentences to avoid the personal pronoun was well underway. As a cock slut she was exceptional, and though I could take no credit for her technique I was more than happy with her obedience and enthusiasm. Now I needed to push things further, towards my goal of a completely submissive and obedient slave. Although I wanted to accelerate matters, I wouldn't take things too fast. I still needed to watch her despair as I robbed her of her identity and destroyed her independance. The first part of the great game was now ready. The first step was to destroy that one tiny flicker of hope, the possibility of rescue and to make things even better she would help me! Sipping my first coffee of the day and with breakfast well underway I headed downstairs. Slipping into the darkroom I recovered the photos. I'd had rather more wine than I'd intended and though I hadn't been drunk I was a little concerned that I'd processed the films before I had a clear head. I'd half expected to find everything ruined but in fact I'd done a pretty good job. Photos of Caroline hung from all of my drying lines. Caroline as young professional on her night out, Caroline as slut, Caroline as sexy mistress, Caroline as leather slave.... I selected the best ones then went back upstairs. A quick look at the cell showed her still asleep so after checking the progress of the toast I went to my office. Probably the best part of computer journalism is the access to new and interesting equipment. Manufacturers are well aware that the endorsement of a well known columnist can boost sales significantly. One of my editors has eight computers at home only one of which he actually paid for (and that was at a substantial discount). Over the years my stated interest in graphics had resulted in a variety of equipment, most of it state of the art at the time. My current scanner is on long term loan from a major Japanese company. A 48bit color drum scanner with a clever sheetfeed mechanism and a ten thousand dollar price tag. It was intended for publishing and photo process houses but it was also perfect for my needs. I loaded the pictures into the sheetfeed and setup the computer to dump each successive scan into a working directory on my network. I hit start and the machine sprang to life weaving the invisible chains that would tie Caroline to me forever. I took breakfast in my office surrounded by the material from Caroline's box. For now I set the diaries aside and concentrated on her recent mail and the letters she'd stuck to her refrigerator door. Almost immediately I got a real find, an unposted begging letter home to mommy. No real news just brief and to the point "wire money or I'll be evicted." The writing was very neat especially considering the difficulty of the subject. As a hunch I sifted through the box looking for the pad and envelopes that matched the letter. Opening the pad I found I'd hit paydirt. Caroline seemed to work by writing a rough draft first then copying the final version out neatly. She left the originals in the pad, giving me names addresses and a basic understanding of her writing style. Just then I saw a slight movement on the monitor. I realized she would be awake soon. I'd been deliberately keeping her hungry since the kicking incident, still she'd been a good girl in the photo session last night so I figured I owed her breakfast. Returning to the kitchen I started into making a smaller version of what I'd just eaten all the time watching the monitor. The food was almost finished when I started to see the first real signs of life from my slave. I went to the closet and pulled out a couple of those Styrofoam coolers you get at gas stations. I've often wondered why it is that no matter how much you spend on a cooler you always forget it when you really need one. I must have five or six of the disposable kind which I keep siting around "just in case" and yet I always forget them too. However for once they were proving useful as I loaded foil covered plates into them. I made a flask of strong, sweet coffee then headed into the dungeon. The room was still decked out as a photographic studio. Drapes covered the furniture and the rings and other restraining points on the walls were covered by blue shower curtains. Soon I'd have to rip it all down but first........ I poured some sweet coffee from the thermos into a plastic cup and headed for the cell. Caroline was awake and trying to swing her legs over the end of the bed. Her groans told me that the hangover was just starting. I put the cup down and helped her upright. "Feeling a little fragile?" I asked. "Urggg," She said, which seemed quite apt at the time. I put the coffee cup to her lips and she drank greedily. I stopped short of letting her finish it all and set the cup aside. With some effort, as her legs were a little unsteady, I helped her over to the toilet. On the way we passed the mirror (not glass obviously) that I'd screwed to the wall. She caught sight of her masked reflection and paused for a moment as if mesmerized. I looked but could not see what fascinated her, in the end a slap on her bare buttocks persuaded her to hurry along. There is a certain humiliation value associated with watching someone use the toilet. She squatted over the pan really wanting me to go away. I just smiled sweetly and watched what she was doing with great intensity. Worse was to come as she couldn't clean herself with her hands still bound. Though ungagged she had some difficulty asking for my help. While she figured it out I retrieved the coffee and took the pills out of my pocket. I didn't let her see them until they were under her nose. >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:30:44 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!news-xfer.netaxs.com!feed1.news.erols.com!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 6B("Paper Chains" M/f,NC,B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:30:44 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 198 Message-ID: <19961225052900.AAA25234@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144822 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 TMQuin@ibm.net ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin (tmquin@ibm.net) ====================== Chapter 6B: "Paper Chains" ========================== "Take these." "W...what are they?" "What are they MASTER!" I corrected, "In answer to your question, they are aspirin for the headache." She seemed unconvinced. "Look slave if I wanted to poison or drug you I could do it anytime. Now, do you want them or not?" She opened her mouth and I popped them inside using the remainder of the coffee to wash them down. It was only a little lie, one was an aspirin, the other was a contraceptive pill, one of which would form part of her daily diet from now on. Then while she was still thinking how to ask, I stripped off a glove, bent her over and cleaned her up. She blushed as we reentered the "studio", memories of last night still obviously fresh in her mind. I had her sit on one of the covered tables as I replaced her shoes with her usual high heeled boots. A butterfly vibrator held in place by a pair of snap on panties (to wake her up a little quicker) and she was almost ready to start the day. I pulled her head forward so that I could get at the buckle of the leather mask and found her strangely resistive. "Please master..." "You like the mask slave?" She nodded and looked down avoiding my eyes. "Why slave?" I asked genuinely puzzled. She remained silent kicking her heels against the leg of the table like a shy schoolgirl. "Answer slave!" I said pressing on her crotch and increasing the butterfly's stimulation of her bare clit. She gasped and shuddered a little. "Please master..... It makes me...feel sexy." She seem embarrassed I was sure that there was a blush hiding behind that mask. " Not good enough slave, but I'll do you a deal. You can keep it IF you can give me a good psychological analysis of why you need it." Her shocked eyes peered out from behind the soft leather. "Well slave? You were a psych major, you should be able to give me a good technical answer." Her eyes filled with conflicting emotions, her mouth worked silently. She wasn't an accomplished liar, I'm sure I would have come up with some bullshit in her position and it was obvious that the anonymity the mask offered some attraction to her, perhaps a way that Caroline the reverend's daughter could distance herself from the slut I was turning her into. Yet I also felt, as I watched the struggle behind those pretty blue eyes, that this was an ancient demon she was fighting, not one that had surfaced in the past few days, traumatic as they were. In the end she didn't speak so I removed the mask and pulled her over to a chair. I retrieved some rope and a collection of other bondage bits from the cabinet and returned. quickly retying her wrists and body to the chair frame. I increased the number of ropes until I had what I needed. Caroline the Republic heroine was back, though in far kinkier underwear than was usual in the thirties. Bound to a chair in the villains hideout she struggles against her tight bonds. Of course some things had to go. Her collar and the remaining bondage jewelry was replaced by a simple costume necklace and earring set that were more in period. Reloading the camera and quickly positioning the lights I started to snap away. The first couple of shots I had her smile at the camera as I took her from several different angles. She looked great. Her blond hair fell on her naked shoulders and framed her face. Her arms were visible, bound to her sides by rope wrapped tightly around her body and the back of the chair. Her wrists were bound with cord to the chair's underframe leaving her gloved hands in plain view. One set of ropes pushed her tits up firmly against the cups of the leather corset. Her long legs had to be pulled back quite a way so that I could tie her booted ankles to the legs of the chair. This exposed the creamy white surface of her uncovered thighs framed as they were by the stocking tops and leather garters. This also seemed to push the butterfly harder into her clit for after a few minutes her eyes rolled back and she groaned loudly. I gagged her, brain and heart in bitter conflict. I had originally intended to just tie a cloth loosely over her mouth in the unconvincing way seen in many films. Yet my master's pride couldn't bear the idea of a photo of a slave of mine with such an obvious fake. So in the end I compromised. I stuffed a sponge ball into her mouth and duct taped it firmly in place. I used the white tape (I have every color) and after tying the cloth tightly over the tape it was impossible to see. I took my shots. Caroline still looked like a Republic heroine, gagged in a stupid movie way but when I looked at the photos I would know that she had been firmly silenced up to my usual standards. Next I untied her from the chair and removed the boots. I tied her arms and legs as I had the day before, clinched rope around ankles and knees with a matching set for wrist and elbows. I wrapped some more rope above and bellow her leather covered tits to bind her arms behind her before removing the gag. I'd found before that kneeling she was at a perfect height to service my engorged cock which was by now pressing painfully against my leather pants. Without saying a word I unzipped my fly and shoved my dick into her face. In three days Caroline had already accepted her role as my cockslut, no other commands were necessary. She licked and sucked, teased and tormented as I started knotting the length of cloth. When I seized her head she finished me off, deepthroating and sucking with the same wonderful mind numbing intensity she had shown the first time. One thing seemed clear, one day I had to find the guy who taught her this trick and thank him personally. I came and came, noticing in a strange detached way that she swallowed every drop. Sam, though she gave great head, would always spit it out afterwards which had left me feeling dirty and awkward. Caroline swallowed it greedily and I realized that my cum was the closest thing Caroline had to a meal in the past few days. Pushing her head back I forced the knotted part of the cloth into her open mouth using the tail ends to tie it tightly in place. Then I ordered her to smile, hard with her mouth gagged so tightly but not impossible. I took smiling shots of her kneeling and sitting down then I had her struggle in as many differing positions as I could think of. I finished off the film with her screaming into the gag, her face contorted and mouth straining against the cloth muzzle. She was left panting on the floor, I waited until she had recovered her breath and then picked her up and took her to the table. I sat her down and she waited quietly, bound legs tucked gracefully under the seat of the chair while I unpacked the food. I sat her on my knee as I had the day before but this time I pulled the gag from her mouth and started to feed her by hand as you would a favorite pet. This was probably not lost on her, but by now she was so hungry that she would accept even this indignity. We finished with pancakes and syrup which she seemed to really enjoy After the pancakes I had her lick the syrup from my gloved fingers Then I picked up the gag and forced the knots back behind her teeth, before tightening the knot behind her head. She gave me her "Bambi in the headlights" look and chewed on the gag as she tried to say something. I smiled then pulled her tits free of the restraining leather. As before I spread a little syrup in her nipples and began to lick and suck it off. She moaned and more muffled sound emerged from her gagged mouth though it was unclear if she wanted me to stop or wanted more. Her nips however had no doubts, standing out hard and firm as my tongue danced over them. It was time to up the stimulation a little so I started to press the butterfly against her clit feeling her body stiffen and tremble. More unintelligible sounds erupted and she started to rub her gagged mouth against me as she had done the day before. Without breaking my rhythm I reached up and pulled the knot free. For a few seconds she just gasped and then she panted out, "Please..". I stopped and looked up, her face was flushed, her breath came in sort pants. She was attempting to avoid my gaze but I brought my fingers to her chin and eased her head back until her eyes met mine. "Please what," I asked, "Please stop, please continue, what?" She didn't say anything. Every other time I'd fucked her she'd been gagged and all I'd ever heard was her muffled cries. This time I meant to know if they were of agony or ecstasy. Her eyes were full of doubt and some strange kind of fear but above all need. That need shone out from behind those embarrassed blue eyes and finally her mouth echoed them "P..Please fuck me master! ... The.... this whore needs to be fucked!" I smiled, now I had my answer but I intended to play a while longer. I bent down and licked again, enough to ensure she was kept on the brink but no more. "Please master......." "Want to cum slave?" She nodded silently, I pressed the butterfly a little harder smiling at her startled gasp. "Well slave if you want it you're going to have to do something for me." She glanced down at my crotch, it was obvious from her expression that she felt she'd done enough already, that the blow job was payment for bringing her off. I just smiled. The idea had formed in an instant. If she wanted this orgasm, and I could tell that she did, I wanted something personal in exchange. I wanted her first sexual encounter to be described in graphic and lurid detail. I would link that first time, good bad or indifferent, with her begging her kidnapper to fuck her. This was an act of violation as real as anything physical I could do to her. My mouth watered with anticipation. >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:31:53 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!uunet!in2.uu.net!199.94.215.18!cam-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!news.bbnplanet.com!cpk-news-hub1.bbnplanet.com!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 6c("Paper Chains" M/f,NC,B&D) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:31:53 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 276 Message-ID: <19961225053000.AAA25269@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144823 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 TMQuin@ibm.net ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin (tmquin@ibm.net) ====================== Chapter 6c: "Paper Chains" ========================== "I'm going to ask you a few questions slave. Answer them for me and I'll see you right." She looked into my eyes. By now she was panting she was so close, she just nodded and looked away. "How old were you when you had your first fuck." She hesitated, I had no way to verify her answers but I was betting that she would have difficulty lying effectively while she was this turned on. I began to stroke her, upping the general tactile stimulus while keeping her erogenous zones as they were. My hand moved quickly over the leather of her panties and came to rest on the inside of her thigh which I gently caressed. "Six....sixteen." She panted. I let my hand stray a little closer to the buzzing butterfly. "Did you have an orgasm?" She shook her head and moaned. Right now all she wanted to do was cum. Still this was interesting information. She was almost nineteen now, so the next question was obvious. "How many orgasms have you had slave, approximately?" To be honest I really didn't want to know the answer. I suppose I saw this as just another embarrassing question, a stepping stone before I forced from her the story of her first clumsy fling with some farm boy. So when she answered it came as quite a shock. "F..ff four or five," She gasped. That was low, I'd expected at least a dozen in nearly three years and there was always masturbation. "How many did you have before you came here?" The question popped out without me thinking about it. I had also started to unconsciously fondle her again and she was now very close. "Twice...." She shuddered as she said it, drawing her breath in explosive bursts. "Who was your first," I demanded realizing that I didn't have a lot of time. She stammered, gasped and trembled. "You will tell me slave!" She didn't answer so I reduced the stimulus. She felt the wave of the orgasm dying. "Please..." "I need an answer cunt," I said viciously. "No answer and I know a horny little slut who's going to be very disappointed." Her hips moved up suddenly as she tried to brush her crotch against my departing fingers. She whimpered and pleaded but the orgasm died. I made it clear that all I needed was a name. In her position I would have lied but she just sat there and cried. In the end I got fed up of the noise and gagged her, refastened her collar and went to the wardrobe. As much I liked Caroline in strict bondage, I had always known that I couldn't keep her like that forever. She would need at least some freedom of movement if she was to stay healthy. This left me with a problem not so much of security (locked in a soundproof cell she was equally helpless bound or not) but of ownership. She was mine, mind and body. Bound as she had been the past few days Caroline hadn't really had much chance to fuck herself. Now I intended to enforce my ownership of her sex with leather and steel. Chastity belts are usually large clumsy things with huge menacing locks and countless straps. Part of this is for effect, like having a large heavy door, and part of it is the "one size fits all" mentality of the ready to wear suit. By contrast Caroline's device was made to measure. It essence it was really a pair of heavy gauge leather panties that was fastened to the waist with a narrow leather belt. The sections of leather near the base of the hips had been modified so that a drawstring would pull them tight around the wearer's thighs in a similar way to plastic diapers. A formed plastic section rested on the hips and made a dome over the wearer's pubic area so that the victim could not bring herself off by rubbing the panties against herself. As an extra touch the designer had covered the plastic former with the same leather as the rest of the pants and had added an indentation that suggested pussy lips. Once on they looked like a large pair of leather briefs pulled tight over a woman's hole. The victim however could not gain access to her clit for stimulation and as an added bonus a thin brush attached to the indent on the inside would prove maddening as it teased the clit just enough to keep the victim frustrated. There was a stiff matching corset which of course denighed access to the breasts. Once on it looked like a soft corset with the woman's nips pressed hard against the leather but as with the pants the "nipples" were parts of a plastic former used to isolate the breasts. I fastened her collar to one of the vertical chains and had her strip to her gloves and heels. I had to slap her with the crop a few times as her hands drifted downwards. She removed the butterfly like she was loosing an old friend. I was tightening the second drawstring when she realized what was going on but by then it was too late. The belt snapped firmly in place around her waist and it was over. I left her for a few moments watching her deft leather covered fingers as they probed poked and shoved but it was to no avail. She soon found that she could not move the former and the drawstrings at her thighs prevented her from working her fingers between the plastic and her body. I decided that the design was quite successful though it was still obvious that the former was not her real mound. Still now that I had her I could make the necessary measurements to get even tighter ones made. The designer had even provided instructions for making casts of the necessary areas. By now Caroline had realized that it was futile. She gave a strangled, frustrated moan behind her gag, stamped her booted foot and then turned to look at me accusingly. "When you are prepared to tell me what I want to know I'll see that you'll be all right." Surprisingly she gave me no trouble with the corset and once it was locked in place and it's garters attached to her stockings I stepped back and looked at her. In truth she looked not much different that she had before, she was still the leather angel of my fantasies. Yet I had now taken ownership of her tits and cunt. She was a sexless neuter without me and any sexual pleasure she would feel from now on would be by my command. While she was mourning I threw her the cuffs. "Put them on slave," I said, "It's time to put you away." She complied, what else could she do? I also had her change the cloth for a leather pad gag to match the outfit. Then I attached her right wrist to the belt of the chastity pants but kept her left hand free. I took her to the cell and refastened her collar, hobbled her legs and locked the gag in place. Her left hand still rubbed mournfully at the smooth carapace covering her crotch so I decided to give it something to do. I went to the cupboard and removed some books before returning to the cell. I threw one to her. It was a spiral bound group of papers I had culled from the internet and extensively edited. I called it the "Slaves Handbook" and it detailed general concepts and the duties of a slave. On the cover were the words, "This material will be tested and wrong answers punished." She saw this and looked doe eyed at me. "I expect you to know all of it, understand?" She nodded. "If you have time read this." I threw her a copy of "The Joy of Sex". She tried to say something. "Read it! You are a sex slave now. All I want you for, all you need to be good at is in these two books. Your life is in these pages so read them real carefully. Otherwise I may have to replace you." I stuck enough menace in those words to convince her just what replacement would mean. I closed the door and heard the faint sound of something impacting against it. I made a mental note for later then went upstairs. When I returned to my office the scanner had almost finished. A series of messages in the window of my graphics workstation indicated that the first few pictures had been analyzed. I pulled up the first, a picture of Caroline standing demurely in her evening gown, and started to work. Graphic manipulation is hard and time consuming even with the best conventional software. Fortunately over the past year and with Andy's suggestions I'd been helping to develop a revolutionary program. Raytracing in the technique used in computer graphics to make computer generated images appear real by adding highlights, shading and shadows to an object as if it was really 3D. Inside a computer program you position your computer generated objects and a set of virtual lights. The computer then works out how the object will look to a virtual camera, where the shading and shadows and reflections will be. Once all of this is worked out the image is generated sometimes with unbelievable realism. What my program did was the same in reverse, given an image it works out the positions characteristics and relative magnitudes of the light sources that lit the original object. This lighting map can then be applied to another image, overriding the lighting conditions that were present when it was recorded. This allows multiple images to be assembled and appear to be lit by the same sources. In this case I removed the background of the dustsheets from behind Caroline and transplanted her to another background that I'd already scanned and analyzed. Then the computer went to work, matching the lighting of Caroline's picture with that of the new background. It added shadows, highlights and reflections to both parts until it appeared that she belonged in the other picture. The technique isn't perfect, the composite image still needs a lot of manual adjustment to appear totally realistic and I didn't have the time for that now. Fortunately even the simple run through looks wonderfully effective and that was all I needed. Caroline stood on a damp, well lit street after nightfall. She smiled at the camera, the streetlights glinting from her jewelry and her heels reflecting in the puddles on the sidewalk.... I worked all afternoon assembling images and pasting them into a document I'd prepared earlier. I rolled between computers on my office chair checking first one, then the other, then Caroline with mechanical precision. When I'd left she had initially thrown the books at the door in a sudden act of renewed spirit. Finally though after trying desperately to get at her covered crotch, boredom overtook her and she started to read. Every couple of hours I looked in on her, partly so that she could drink but mainly because the chastity pants stopped her from going to the toilet without my help. Around five the last document finished printing and I was ready. I put my work into a folder along with other papers, collected a snack from the kitchen and headed downstairs. After setting up the table I freed her and lead her into the dungeon. I fastened collar to table, and strapped ankles and butt to the chair. Then I removed her gloves, this was one time I wanted fingerprints. Finally I removed the gag, but as always I left it dangling around her neck. "I thought we should talk," I said sitting across the table from her. I pushed over a diet coke, "I know you have questions about your new life here and I really haven't given you any answers." She gulped down a huge swallow of coke, which seemed to restore her confidence. "Who are you? Why have you brought me here?" She asked her voice high and anxious. I rolled my eyes, back over the same old ground. "I am your MASTER, I have selected you to be my sex slave. Your principle job is to obey me completely and to give sexual pleasure to me and to any others I indicate. I've told you this before." I knew what the next question was so I cut her off. "As to why I chose you, that is my concern." "Now that we have covered all your old questions AGAIN, is there anything else you want to ask?" "How long do you intend to keep me here?" "Until you bore me. Then I'll replace you with a new girl." A frightened look spread over her face. "You aren't the first," I lied, "And you are certainly not the last. The longer you please me, the longer you stay alive and the longer your replacement keeps her liberty." "How long?" She asked her eyes large and frightened. "The current record is five years," I said smoothly, "But she was exceptionally obedient. Those who refuse training usually don't last a month." I could see her absorbing the information. "In the end I grew quite attached to her, when the time came I sold her to a friend rather than do anything unpleasant." I smiled at her, "There is always a place for a good obedient slave, the difficult o >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:35:35 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!newsjunkie.ans.net!newsfeeds.ans.net!news-w.ans.net!newsfeeds.ans.net!news.lava.net!news.Hawaii.Edu!ames!venus.sun.com!cs.utexas.edu!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 7a("Sleepwalking" M/f B&D NC) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:35:35 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 278 Message-ID: <19961225053400.AAA25321@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:145297 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 TMQuin@ibm.net ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 7a: "Sleepwalking on Bourbon Street" ====================================== "Putting Caroline away" proved to be the hardest thing I'd done so far. She was hot and had been denied an orgasm for too long already. I could smell the musky aroma of her damp cunt even through the confines of the chastity briefs. She continued to look at me pleadingly as I lead her towards the cell and when I stopped to pull back the bolts, she rubbed her leather covered crotch up and down my leg invitingly. As the briefs transmitted no sensation to her covered cunt I can only assume that it was for my benefit. In any case it was working! It took every ounce of willpower in me not to take her then and there. Instead I somehow forced her inside and fastened her to the wire. She made a little moaning sound behind the gag as I turned to leave. "Soon enough sweetheart," I managed to say though my head was pounding, "We'll see to that real soon." I spent about an hour checking the papers she'd signed. Most were trivial, notes to institutions informing them of address changes, postcards to friends. Some were more important, a note to the police about her stolen car, the transfer of her bank account to Seattle. Although many and varied the one thing that they had in common was that they formed what an investigator would call an "audit trail." It wasn't perfect but it was the best I could do. The big problem was that I couldn't do anything that involved her turning up in person. Things like applying for a Washington state drivers license would need a woman to stand in line for a couple of hours. Of course in fiction it is easy, the evil organization of white slavers have entire departments dedicated to erasing "volunteers" past lives. Female accomplices are ten a penny, all officials can be blackmailed or bribed. Reality though was less perfect, still I was happy with what I had achieved. There was now a large body of evidence which pointed to her having moved to a run down suburb of Seattle. The area was well known as a red light district. The sort of place a pretty young thing could disappear without trace. Once I was finished I placed a call to one of my editors. Just how badly did he need the latest news on the new Windows release? Obviously enough to pay for a flight to Seattle, an extra couple of calls to sign up for a Microsoft seminar and it was done. A legitimate reason to go to the north west and spread my little seeds. Still it left me with a couple of days to get ready, so I busied myself with a couple of minor articles whilst watching Caroline get steadily more frustrated. After a while I found myself just watching the screen and daydreaming. One image that had always appealed to me was of the slave girl as lapdog. Something like a harem slave sitting patiently at her master's feet ready to serve his every whim. I'd had a little leather outfit made for just that purpose; a small pushup bra that left the nipples free for clamps matched with a tight pair of side laced bikini briefs that barely covered anything. A leather bondage belt was connected to a number of strong thin chains which in turn were fastened to wrists and ankles by small gilded metal cuffs. A matching metal collar and leash completed the bondage elements though a metal and leather gag could be added if necessary. I looked at my watch, it was about an hour before the late screening of the X Files. How nice it would be, I mused, to watch the show with a slave at my feet ready to serve me if the need arose. If she was good I may allow her to sleep chained to the foot of my bed. The image was so appealing I found myself hard again. With some regrets I turned off the monitor and reasserted my self control. Then I started to make preparations. First up was a shower. I'd only washed Caroline the night before but the kind of things we did involved a lot of sweat and other excretions. I remembered her musky odor, by now she'd need to shower again. To save time I laid out the slavegirl outfit in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Next came suitable music. I'm basically a Rock man, the Stones, Kiss, and Rush are my music of choice, but while we were together I'd done the "New Man" thing and pretended to like Sam's music. Sam was into classical, or at least so she claimed, but I've always had the suspicion that this was more for show than anything. I've noticed that models like to appear cultured, I suspect that it's an attempt to dump the bimbo image they get in the tabloids. She had bought a "Three Tenors" style disk of great operatic love songs that she used to play during sex. I smiled, if Caroline was as hot as I believed then the shower could prove interesting. I put the CD into the machine then went to collect the slave. When I entered she seemed awfully keen, probably because she thought I'd come to fuck her and end the frustration.. I let her keep thinking this while I removed the cuffs and strapped her arms behind her. Then I unlocked the chastity outfit. By now she was all aglow and opened her legs expectantly. For a girl three days into a kidnapping to be so keen to be fucked by her captor is perhaps a little odd. Yet Caroline seemed to have had very little sexual pleasure before I took her, and had been in a constant state of sexual frustration since. I looked into her eyes, saw the hunger and knew then that she was starting to become addicted. A few more frustrating weeks in the chastity outfit, unable to relieve herself and with her only pleasure coming when I decided and she would be broken. For now I just smiled as she thrust her pussy towards me and mewed behind the gag. "Not yet slave," I said gently stroking her breast and finding the nipple hard and erect, "I don't fuck smelly bitches. You need a bath first." I could tell that wasn't what she needed NOW, but she bowed her head in acknowledgment. Naked but for gloves, boots and gag she waited patiently while I attached the leash and strapped on the blindfold. I didn't bother with a hobble so it proved a quick and easy journey to the upstairs bathroom. Once again I removed the boots and blindfold but kept her gloved and gagged. Then I padlocked the leash to the ring before stripping off myself. I punched a button on my remote control and the hidden speakers started the buildup to a classic operatic aria. Then the tenor joined in his voice full of passion and heartbreaking emotion. I started small, deftly shampooing her hair as I had the night before, listening as she moaned with pleasure. All through this she was happy, no one in her situation would turn down a bath. After suitable warnings I unstrapped the gag so that I could remove all the old makeup from her face. She looked at me as I gently stroked her cheek. "Please..." She whispered the edge of desperation in her voice. An idea came to me and I drew her naked body close feeling her hard nipples dig into my chest. "Soon," I said. She didn't fuss when I put the gag back. She seemed strangely subdued, both horny and melancholy. Time had come to warm her up. My roving hand moved on, gently stroking and caressing her helpless body. I cleaned parts in a random order, teasing her with my touch, listening as she moaned and caught her breath. Finally my hand drifted down, finding her pussy warm and very damp as I gently cleaned it. There was the suggestion of a fine stubble on her pubis and I wondered about the possibility of home electrolysis. I was careful that as I cleaned her pussy of the days accumulated juices I didn't up the sensation to a level she could find useful. She moaned in frustration as the heat in her crotch increased. I unfastened her elbows and started washing her back. She made a little mewing sound and as my hands slid forwards to caress her breasts and their erect nipples, hers drifted down to gently brush against my balls and the insides of my thighs. The message seemed clear, I wasn't the only one who could tease. I let my hand hover round her abdomen then slide back to the silken folds between her legs. I was rewarded by the slick touch of her latex covered fingers on the head of my cock. Then we traded, finger on nub for thumb on head. It seemed like masturbation by proxy but it was also a big turn on. I soaped her down using handfuls of shower gel to make her body wet and slippery. She started to slide her body against mine making sure that the outside of her thigh slid up and down my steadily mounting erection. I gasped and started to caress her, one hand cupped her breast while the other slid down to finger her hot cunt. I started to nibble her neck between the gagstrap and her shoulder. She moaned then arched her back, fingers straining against the single imprisoning strap. I gasped as she started to work on my balls and thighs, carefully avoiding the shaft, denying me an orgasm as long as I denied hers. Above it all the tenor sang of loves lost and hearts broken in a mounting crescendo of emotion. Through it all I dimly wondered how long we could stay like that, how far we could push it while still keeping the other from release. Part of my mind had decided to take her right then and there against the shower wall, I even upped the pace a little, listening to her excited yelps as she came closer and closer to the edge. Then dimly I became aware of something else in the environment, something noisy, insistent, something cutting through even the vibrant music. It was the phone, I suppose it was to be expected after all we were in the shower. Part of my brain said leave it, let the machines pick it up, but they didn't and the ringing continued as insistent as ever. It says a lot about the power a ringing phone has over us that I got out of the shower. Caroline gave a little scream and when I looked at her she tried to say something. Too well gagged to be intelligible she shook her head, thrust her shaved cunt towards me and wiggled her hips. It was an invitation good in any language but the little dictator kept ringing. In the end I threw on a robe and squelched off to the handset in the upstairs hall. I mean, there I was about to have sex with a beautiful, naked and helpless girl, I could have let it ring until the guy at the other end got the message and rang off. Yet I didn't; I didn't because I am an idiot. The idiot picked up the phone. "Hello?" There was a pause on the other end of the line then a hesitant female voice asked, "Mr. Thomas?" I was about to yell no, tell the stupid bitch she had the wrong number and slam down the phone, then I suddenly remembered that I'd used the name Thomas when I'd left the message for Vicky the photographic model. "Yes that's right, is that Vicky?" I asked as calmly as any guy could with a raging hardon. She stammered out a yes, though it was hard to hear over the operatic background music. I realized that I'd left the remote behind. "Thought I remembered your voice from the answering machine, " I lied. "Look I'm sorry for the noise, can't reach the stereo from here.." "I was w..wondering if you still needed a model. I realize it's been a couple of days since you called but I've been away......" She seemed apologetic, weak and unsure. "No I still need a model," I said wanting this over as soon as possible. She seemed relieved but even in my ardor alarm bells were already starting to ring. "Vicky, sorry to ask this luv," I said switching into classic Pearson, "But you do seem a little nervous. Do you have much experience?" At first she tried to bluff it out. Then her confidence failed and she twittered on for a while. I really didn't have time for this but the explanation she blurted out I gathered that the camera shop where I had found her name did portrait and ID pictures. The photographer had persuaded her to try modeling and had suggested that she leave her number. I was her first call. To be honest I was tempted to turn her down, but she looked so much like Caroline and there was so much I could do with her unwitting help. So patiently I spun her a line. I was an amateur trying to make a break into the pro circuit. I would need a model at various times and various places to take shots for my portfolio. She must be willing to appear in a variety of shots, in various outfits and perhaps nude. The nature of the work would be experimental as I would be trying out different films and effects. Some of it wouldn't make sense. I would pay her by the hour, irrespective of the number of shots or what they entailed but I promised that I would give her copies of some shots for her private use. She seemed pleased and a little surprised, to be honest she wasn't a great looker, though like Caroline she was probably better after a makeover, and I think it did her ego good to know she could be paid for her looks. Her gratitude bubbled out, I was waiting to politely end the call and get back to my hot slave when suddenly I got a weird creepy feeling, a kind of sixth sense warning of danger. To this day I don't know what it was, though I suppose I could have heard something subconsciously. I managed to tell Vicky that I had another call and I had just hit the hold button when the screaming started. The closed bathroom door was at one end of the corridor, the phone at the other I have no doubt that some land speed records were broken in the next few seconds as I raced towards the noise. Caroline was cutting loose but good. I bounced open the door to find her half out of the shower one hand holding the still attached leash to stop it pulling tight as she lent forward, the other hand questing for the door latch. The situation had come close to a complete disaster. The strap that bound her wrists was lying in the shower, the ballgag was pulled down around her neck, only the presence of the padlocked collar and leash had stopped her from getting completely free. How had it happened so fast? I'd kept her bound for the last few days without her budging a single bond. One thing was clear I needed to reassert control fast! >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 00:36:59 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news-out.internetmci.com!news.internetMCI.com!news-out.internetmci.com!pith.uoregon.edu!cliffs.rs.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 7B("Sleepwalking" M/f B&D NC) Date: 25 Dec 1996 05:36:59 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 344 Message-ID: <19961225053500.AAA25336@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:144825 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 TMQuin@ibm.net ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 7B: "Sleepwalking on Bourbon Street" ====================================== Surprisingly she stopped screaming the moment I entered the room. "Please.." She said. I said nothing just grabbed wrists and turned her to face the wall. She struggled and it proved hard to hold her, the gloves seemed, if anything, slicker than usual. Turning her to face me again I raised my hand to slap her face. She whimpered and cringed and the fight left her. Leaving her for the moment I reached down for the discarded strap. It was then I noticed the large blob of blue gel in the bottom of the shower. Retrieving the strap I examined the gloves as she held them up to protect her face and body. Then I realized what a complacent fool I'd been. I had become so used to her being so cooperative that I'd started to cut corners. Locked in the cell she had worn tight leather cuffs, but these were expensive and the finish easily damaged by water so before the shower I had swapped them for two basic leather straps, one at the wrists one at the elbows. When I had started to wash her back I'd removed the elbow strap to allow for access. Then things had become more heated so I hadn't put it back. When the phone rang I'd just left, closing the door behind me so that her little gagged noises wouldn't be heard.. In short I had left her alone, unobserved and with only one strap holding her. She had managed to squeeze shower gel on to her latex gloves near the wrist and use the lubrication to work her hands free. The collar, gag and leash were all padlocked but she had managed to roll the gag out of her mouth and scream to alert the caller at the other end of the line. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, I had come within seconds of being caught. Silently I gathered her wrists turned her towards the wall and restrapped her arms at wrist and elbow. She didn't resist seeming more than happy that I hadn't hit her. After the arms were done I used the shower to clean the gel off of her body and gloves thought to be honest I doubted she could slip her hands free with her elbows clinched. Next I released the leash and forced her down onto the showermat. Using the belts from the bathrobes I bound her legs together and hog-tied her wrists to her ankles. Then I went to the medicine cabinet and got some sticky plaster, a bandage and few pads of cotton. First I replaced the ballgag fastening it tighter than I ever had before pulling the ball further into her mouth. She complained, it probably hurt like hell, but I didn't care. Next I forced the pads between her lips in front of the ball until her mouth was fully packed and used the sticky plaster to hold it in place. A nice tight Ace bandage wrapped tightly over the top and she was gagged as well as I could manage at the moment. It was important that Vicky heard from me as soon as possible so with Caroline rolling on the bathroom floor in plain sight I went back to the phone. "Sorry Vicky love, you have no idea how some people carry on." I said looking at Caroline. My slave quaked and tried to say something. Vicky seemed pleased that I hadn't hung up on her and we made plans for the next day. All the time I was aware of Caroline struggling a few yards away. The gag proved very effective and her desperate screams became muffled moans easily drowned out by Domingo in full voice. Vicky never once commented on any sounds (though I had a good explanation ready if she did.) I signed off and walked back towards my slave. "She didn't hear a thing, I put her on hold just before you started screaming." Caroline looked up in despair. By then she already realized that she'd failed. After all I'd made her listen helplessly as I completed the call but now was the worse prospect. Now came the punishment. I released her feet and helped her up using a towel to dry her. I was perhaps a little rougher than I strictly needed to be. She stood to attention doing nothing that would anger me further. Then the music seemed to seize her. I don't think she knew Italian and there was nothing in her tape collection that suggested that she was a big opera fan. Perhaps something in the man's mournful song to his lost love reminded her of a freedom denied. In any case she started to sob, though I missed it at first, the gag muffled all sound and the water dripping from her hair washed away her tears. In the end it was the gentile quaking of her shoulders that gave it away. I turned her around and looked into her eyes. I'd expected to see anger, sorrow, something I could understand but whatever demons she had were playing games behind those pretty blue eyes, and all I could see was pain, deeper and older than I expected. She didn't struggle when I replaced the boots and hobbled her, she must have realized that she'd blown it and there seemed no point in compounding things. I got dressed with her chained to the top of the stairs the phone just out of reach. Strangely her escape attempt had made the erection worse. I don't know if it was the danger of discovery or just the excitement of the chase. I really wished I could set that talented mouth to work but I wanted her to wear the uncomfortable gag a little longer. I checked the building security logs while I dressed. During the 30 Seconds or so of her screaming there were no intruders, there wasn't even a car passing the end of the drive. Satisfied I blindfolded her and led her back to the dungeon. Once there I chained her to one of the overhead rings and prepared her for punishment. Modern bondage photography is good, but the scenes seem far too posed, the women either too perfect of too ordinary. Over the past few months while "researching" the kidnapping I'd come across a number of photo's from the 1950's taken by artists like Irvin Klaw and John Willie. I suppose part of the attraction had been the concentration on fetishwear especially the high heels, though the fact that the models tended to be "resting" 1950's B movie actresses probably brought back memories of my beloved Republic serials. In any case two things from these photo's had influenced my plans for Caroline. The first was the pony girl rig that was sitting in the room behind my garage along with Caroline's few belongings. I'd finally found a place in Arizona that made the things and had one shipped to New England in a crate marked "Cycle spares." This would have to wait until Caroline had been "broken" of course but the other idea, that of posture training would get an unexpected early trial. The corset came first. All the previous fetish "corsets" she had worn had really been tight leather tops capable of pulling in and pushing up a little but without the facility for tight lacing. Of course Caroline didn't understand the difference, the corset I now brought to her seemed perhaps only a little more old fashioned than previous ones. Certainly she didn't resist, stepping into it when ordered and holding still while it was pulled up her body. I left it loose for now and instead replaced her usual collar for a high leather posture collar. This involved releasing her from the leash but she gave no trouble, probably deciding to get it over with rather that risk greater punishment. New collar in place and leash again secured I removed the damp latex gloves and replaced them with an elegant leather pair that came to just above her elbows. I loosely fastened a leather pad gag around her neck, though I had no intention of using it paid to remind her that speech was a privilege I controlled. Next came the return of the leather cuffs which I used to fasten her wrists to the ring at the back of her collar effectively fastening her hands behind her neck. She tugged on the gagstrap giving me a big eyed helpless look. In the end I relented and removed the gag. She paused for a while wiggling her jaw and waiting for the numbness to wear off. "I'm sorry Master, I didn't mean it.." "Liar!" I said. Whatever she had been expecting this wasn't it, she floundered for a while so I decided to help her. "What did you do and why are you being punished?" I asked. She looked down, the collar stopped her from bowing her head. "I screamed and tried to let someone know that I was here," She said. "Which means you did what. Why are you being punished?" She swallowed, "For trying to escape." I made a deliberate effort to look amazed, "Is THAT what you think. That you're to be punished for trying to escape?" She looked up eyes wide. "Isn't it?" She asked weakly. "Oh no!" I said, "The escape is a perfectly normal reaction, I was stupid enough to give you the opportunity, you were resourceful enough to take it. I have no problem with the escape attempt in fact I think it was very well done. I can't blame you for giving it a try it was my fault leaving you like that." I wandered off towards the cupboard and returned with some balls, some tape and length of kitchen roll. She looked confused, "Then why?" "You removed your gag without permission ." She glanced down at the kitchen roll in my hand, her face suddenly filled with horror and at that moment she went hysterical. "No Master, oh please no! I'll do anything, oh please, oh God NO!" I tore a piece of the paper off and brought it up to her nose. I could tell she wanted to move her head but the collar made that impossible. She cringed and whimpered as I placed it to her nose. "Blow," I said, "Really hard I want it good and clear." We spent about a minute blowing her nose, by the end of which she had almost stopped shaking. The thing about a good lesson is that you never need to repeat it. I held one of the balls up so that she could see it. "Know what this is slave?" She looked intensely at the small metal sphere for a few moments. A few inches wide it had a little string attached to it. At the end of the string was a tag not too different from the ones found on teabags. For a second she hesitated then said, "Is it a Ben Wa ball?" Now it was my turn to look surprised. "Very good slave," I said, "We are full of surprises today! Now can you explain exactly HOW you know that?" She blushed, "Brenda...., a friend showed me one once." "Ever use one?" She went to shake her head but couldn't. "No." "But you know what they are for." Again I think she would have liked to just indicate in the end she answered very quietly, "Yes." "Good," I said, "That will save us some time. Now spread your legs." She complied being in no position to do otherwise. Her cunt wasn't quite as juicy as usual and it took a few minutes of gentle play before she was damp enough to allow the first ball in. I pushed in the second and left her standing there with the two little tags dangling from between her pussy lips. I tore off a strip of tape and stuck it firmly over her cunt repeating the process until a little white PVC triangle covered her crotch completely. I unhitched her and walked her over to the table. I could tell that the devilish little balls were already at work by her expression as I helped her on to the table. I locked the leash in place then had her move forward so that she was perched on the edge. I discarded her old boots and reached down. A pair of real silk stockings came first. The classic pattern with the seam at the back and the dark band at the top, they were pulled up to her thigh and left there. I spent some time straightening the seams while she watched in silence. Boots came next. Since I had brought her here Caroline had usually worn a set of high heeled boots. These were ladies fashion boots in leather, PVC or patent leather. Though styles varied they were all fairly tight fitting, came to just below the knee and had a 2 1/2 to 3 inch heel. In fact these boots had been bought from regular shoe stores and differed from those seen on any high street only in having been modified so they could be locked in place. These and a $15 a pair set of latex gloves formed the core of a slave outfit and was cheap and expendable. The boots I now prepared to put on her feet were very different. Made from the finest leather they were stiff enough not to crease or wrinkle but soft enough to mold themselves to the leg like a second skin. Finely patterned and hand made they carried a five inch stiletto heel. Like their high street cousins they came up to the knee but these needed no modification being held in place by the intricate lacing up their front. These boots were definitely not expendable and cost almost four hundred dollars a pair. Once the lacing was finished I got her to stand all be it rather unsteadily. With heels in place she was now almost as tall as I was; still it made it easier to attach the stockings to the garters of the corset. Next I lead her over to a post in the center of the room and attached her cuffs to it. Seizing the laces of the corset I rammed my knee into her back and pulled. Up 'till this point I think she'd had trouble figuring out what the punishment was. Now she knew. She gave an huff sound and gasped as the cords had their way with her figure. There was a limit to what both of us could stand and when I tied her off her waist was down to a respectable 19 inches. The effect on her figure was startling. Caroline would never have the "hourglass" figure of those '50's starlets, she simply wasn't built enough up top but the corset maximized her assets to a really quite rewarding extent. Of course she couldn't breath but that seemed minor for the moment. I helped her up and on to her feet, and she nearly fainted. In the end I found I had to let the corset out an inch if I wanted her to stand. With the wind literally out of her sails it proved easy to pull her arms behind her and cuff them in place. I ran a small length of chain through her collar and fastened a wrist at each end effectively chaining her hands in a kind of hammer lock behind her back with her arms crossed. This had the additional effect that it forced her shoulder back and improved her posture. I retrieved a flogger and unchained her collar. "Tell me slave, what is the minimum punishment for attempting to escape." She looked at the flogger, "But you said you wouldn...." "I didn't say that you would be punished I was just checking that you had read the book." She swallowed. "A pussy whipping," she said nervously. "How many lashes?" "Twenty, with ten extra each repeat offense." "Tell me slave have you ever been pussy whipped?" The answer was predictable, "N..no." I lashed out with the flogger catching her firmly between the legs. She was surprised, and had no time to dodge. She let out a little scream then doubled over in pain as far as the bondage would allow. "That was one," I said, "Given purely as an example of what you can expect if you attempt anything that stupid again." "Understand?" She was breathing heavily and still doubled over. "UNDERSTAND?" "Y..yes." "Yes what?" "Yes master." "What is the punishment for removing your gag without permission." "The tape...." "Louder" "The Tape, " She sobbed. "Tell me slave have I whipped your pussy twenty times?" "N..no" "And the tape, have I used that?" "NO." "Then shouldn't you thank me for not punishing you?" She paused, "Thank you Master." "Good girl. Now thank me for whipping your pussy." "Th..thank you for whipping my pussy Master." By now she had straightened up. "What won't this cunt do." "Th.. this cunt won't try to escape, this cunt won't remove her gag without permission." "Very good slave," I said, "Now walk to the wall and back." What I'd had in mind was the sexy slink of a high heeled seductress, what I got was more of a waddle. Small steps are necessary with heels that high, but the way she walked looked as if she was picking her way through a field of shit. I stopped her. "Slave you may find it better if you wiggle your ass more." The idea of the Ben Wa balls had been to encourage her to swing her hips. She tried increasing the pelvic movement and the sudden flush on her face told me that she was getting the point. The problem now was that her whole body moved from side to side in an exaggerated movement that looked like someone wading. I tried to get her to stop but the movement always returned. In the end I decided to enforce what I needed. Going to the cabinet I retrieved some nipple clamps. As I approached she took a step backwards. "Please Master, they hurt." "I know." I started to fold down the soft leather cups of the corset to expose her small brown nips. The Ben Wa balls had done their job well and the nipples were hard and erect and just ready for clamping. Sh >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 22:42:09 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!uunet!in2.uu.net!152.163.170.17!newstf01.news.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 8a("Stories of Death" Nc M/f Bd) Date: 26 Dec 1996 03:42:09 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 231 Message-ID: <19961226034100.WAA13105@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:145555 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 TMQuin@ibm.net ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 8a: Stories of Death ======================= Then she started to cry, her body shaking, the tears flowing like rain. I held her, tried to do what I could to calm her down, but it was no good. I admit I felt a little guilty thinking that the stress of the kidnapping was finally coming out. I pulled her close feeling the warm smoothness of the leather corset against my skin. She started to mumble something and as I listened I gradually came to realise that this had nothing to do with the kidnapping or with me. I understand grief through bitter experience. It is a slow subtle poison. If you try to bury it or run from it then the loneliness and pain get a power over your life and they start to eat away at your soul. I loved my grandfather, he had been a strong generous man always willing to help a neighbor or a grandson prone to trouble. In our community he had held a special place, never elected to any office, never qualified in any profession yet somehow always the one people turned to in times of crisis. He was if anything the perfect human being, a strong man who didn't pick on the weak, a proud man always willing to admit when he was wrong. During the long hot Indiana summers of my boyhood we had walked and talked and fished, all the things boys and grandfathers are supposed to do together. Then in my senior year at High School he died, no illness, no warning just one day I came home from school and found my mother crying in the kitchen. The shock and the grief hit her all at once and she was never quite the same again. As for me? Well one of the constants in my life was missing and the pain was worse than anything my young mind could imagine. Then I did a foolish thing. My parents had always treated me as an adult and I was graduating High School at the age of fifteen. So I tricked myself into thinking that I was an adult and bottled the grief inside so as not to upset my mother any further. I played the dutiful son and buried my feelings so deep that when it was all over and I wanted to cry I found I couldn't. That feeling stayed bottled up eating away at my guts every day for eight long years. Then late one night as I lay alone in a hotel room in San Francisco all that burst to the surface and I cried all night. I don't know what had happened after Josh died but I know that Caroline hadn't dealt with it. She'd buried that grief as I had and it had lurked in the back of her mind. Now it had picked it's time and place finding that moment of weakness as it had in that dark hotel room in San Francisco. I held her shaking body encouraged her to scream into the privacy of the soundproofed room and waited for the storm to pass. She spoke a little between the sobs and with some gentle encouragement I persuaded her to tell me their story. She had known Josh Petersson all her life. The Petersson's were a local farming family who had lived in this backwoods part of Iowa since great grandfather Olof came from Scandinavia in the eighteen nineties. They lived close enough to the Reverend Conway and his family to be considered neighbors. They shared barbecues in the summer, exchanged gifts in the winter, attended the good Reverend's church and involved themselves in local fund raising. Josh was three years older than Caroline and had voted himself the title of honorary big brother. She had grown up with him always about but never really saw him as anything but a friend. Then when she was fourteen he had asked her out on a date. It seemed to have come without warning and I got the feeling that she had accepted almost by reflex. Almost accidentally she had fallen into the relationship, then deliberately she fell in love. Knowing that her father would not approve, she had kept their romance a secret. Over that summer they had seen each other more and more, meeting in private, lying to friends trying to keep the truth away from the tell tales and gossips common to all small towns. As she was underage they had agreed to limit themselves to oral sex and heavy petting until her sixteenth birthday. For six months they had done what kids do and I think these were the happiest weeks of her young life. Then Josh started to busy himself on some project. He was unavailable most weekends and would not tell her why. She became jealous, and started to think he had another girl. When she finally confronted him he'd just laughed and asked her to meet him at a small empty cottage on his father's land. His family called it "Patrick's House" and his grandfather had built it for his parents when they were first married. She had been there before of course, it was one of the few places were they had any privacy. This time she went with some trepidation thinking that perhaps he wanted to break up. Instead he surprised her with an engagement ring on a silver chain she could wear it around her neck and a promise of marriage. Then they walked through the empty rooms looking at the work he'd done to make it their home and planned their new life together. It had started to rain so they couldn't leave immediately. The moment had seemed so perfect that she took him by the hand and led him upstairs and they made love for the first time one week before her fifteenth birthday. It took a lot of coaxing to get her to tell me about his death. I knew from experience that it was necessary, that if she didn't get it in the open it would continue to haunt her. It was painful and she cried like a child as she went through his last day. They'd had a fight, he'd wanted to formally ask her father. She had said no. Angry words were said then he'd stormed off. He'd apparently gone hunting, something he did quiet often when he needed to think, when he didn't return this family sent out search parties. They had found him at the bottom of a dirt bank in a lonely wood. She told me how he had slipped and fell shooting himself in the process then bleed to death unable to climb out again. At that moment she broke down completely, it took another hour before she was cried out. I held her until the end encouraging her to let it go providing the physical comfort a person needs at that time. When she finished she was weak and emotionally drained. I took off the posture collar and replaced it with the usual one. I had intended to remove the corset and boots but right now she needed to sleep. I attached the wire and freed her hands. Then I gently dried her face and brushed her hair aside. "Thank you," She said. "What for?" "For listening." I smiled. "Comes with the territory, " I said, "If you can't talk to your master who can you talk to?" I pantomimed looking around the room for some other person and discovering only myself there. She smiled, and I knew she was going to be all right. I turned to leave but at the door on impulse I stopped and looked back. "Who are you?" I asked gently. "A slave for your pleasure, Master." I looked into her large blue eyes. Tomorrow when she'd had chance to recover it may be different but at that one vulnerable moment I think she really believed what she was saying, at that moment she really was my slave. The night was still relatively young so I busied myself preparing my laptop for the trip. About twelve I made a hot drink and settled into my favorite chair. A quick check on Caroline showed her asleep, a calm almost radiant look on her face. It looked as if the release of all than angst had done her some good. It really had been a roller coaster ride tonight and as I sipped my cocoa I went back through the events to look for a trigger. There was the sex of course. This time it had seemed much stronger than before. I'd been overwhelmed by the power of it all. Tonight she'd been somehow sexier, more vibrant than on previous occasions. I tried to find a reason why, when we'd had sex before she had seemed to enjoy it and I knew for a fact that she'd orgasmed so what was so different this time? I knew that if I kept her excited long enough she would throw away her inhibitions when we finally fucked. In fact when the time came she was now an enthusiastic partner. I may have been keeping her here against her will, but there could no longer be any doubts that the sex was consensual. Of course I didn't kid myself. I kept Caroline tied and frustrated for most of the day, by the time we fucked she was desperate, her body crying out for relief. When I offer to fuck her of course she co-operates as she would with a vibrator or a wine bottle. I could see that from Caroline's point of view sex with me was just a way to for a girl to masturbate with her hands tied. Then I remembered the little "I'm sorry Josh" line she'd said. Did she feel unfaithful to his memory? I could force her to have sex, I could even make her body betray her so that she enjoyed it but I couldn't make her invest any emotion involvement. Was that the answer? Had sex meant something more than pleasure to her this time? Had the guilt of that discovery burst the dam wall of all that pent up grief? I didn't know and felt not for the first time that a degree in psychology would be more useful right now. Then I remembered Caroline's textbooks still sitting in the back room of my garage awaiting the furnace. Perhaps the answer was in there? I decided to rescue them and find out. Now though it was time for bed so I started the dishwasher and headed upstairs. I settled down and for the first time that I could remember I had a dream. It started in the parlour of my father's hardware store. I think I was about ten and it was one of those timeless Indiana summers that I remembered so fondly. Long hot dusty days with school a distant memory, and the smell of the corn fields on the breeze. Then a sudden cut and I was out in the street chasing after Grandpah trying not to drag the fishing pole he gave me in the dirt, wanting him to slow down; but never wanting to admit I was too young to keep up. We sat fishing and talked as we had so long ago, and though part of me knew he was dead, I was filled again by the joy of his presence. I could have stayed there forever, but for some reason he sent me back to the house to pick up some fruit we'd forgotten. As I headed back towards the path something drifted into my view....... .....Caroline floated above. She was naked but for a large number of thin leather straps, each about the width of a boot lace that bound her legs together and her arms at her sides. I paused for a moment, shocked to see her in such an idyllic place. I noticed that the straps were very tight, her hands and feet were blue and bloated. One strap ran up through her shaved pussy and disappeared between her cunt lips. This seemed so tight that it almost cut her in two. A seemingly endless flow of blood trickled down her exposed thigh. She was looking at me, big blue eyes above the wide padded strap that gagged her. Much to my surprise there was non of the accusing looks she normally gave me. Instead she had a rather pained expression, eyes slightly puffy like she had wept for a long time. I found myself opening the big knife my grandfather had given me and I nervously stepped forward. Bringing the knife to the crotch strap I cut the thin leather lace above her pussy and started to pull it from between her cunt lips. Much to my surprise it refused to budge. I pulled harder and was shocked when a large ball of the leather cord popped out of her hole. Almost immediately she started to thrash and moan behind her gag and I realised she was orgasming. More blood poured down her body as the straps literally cut her limbs. I felt frightened but somehow stepped forward. Her rapid motion caused her to slip from my grasp and a found her drifting off in the wind like a bizarre fetish balloon.... >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 22:43:10 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!news.fast.net!uunet!in3.uu.net!205.252.116.190!feed1.news.erols.com!howland.erols.net!portc02.blue.aol.com!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 8B("Stories of Death" Nc M/f Bd) Date: 26 Dec 1996 03:43:10 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 351 Message-ID: <19961226034200.WAA13124@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:145137 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 TMQuin@ibm.net ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 8B: Stories of Death ======================= I followed but whenever I approached she just seemed to drift further and further away........ In the end I started running but just as I caught up with her she squealed and rolled herself into a ball....... I closed in, making comforting noises and after quite a struggle managed to undo the buckle on the gag strap. However as I pulled it from her face I became aware of the blood encrusted on it. I looked down and cringed for beneath the gag her lips had been sown together with stitch after stitch of the foul leather cord........ I woke with a start. Was this the dream that I'd had the night before? All I knew was that I was shaking. It took me almost an hour to calm down and start to think rationally of the images in my mind. I felt sure of one thing, the dream was somehow significant; my subconscious was trying to alert me to something. I thought at first it was guilt, but Caroline's bonds had been horrific, the sick work of a sadist and though I may be many things I wasn't that. I admit that I'm a control freak and that I use pain to get that control but I don't revel in it and I don't use it for its own sake. So what did it mean? A quick video check found her still asleep. It was dawn and I didn't feel like sleeping again so I put on a pot of coffee and went into my office. There underneath one of my computer tables was the box of important papers I'd taken from Caroline's apartment. I should have moved it into the dungeon some time ago; there is little point hiding the slave and leaving boxes of her stuff just lying around. For now though I just reached into the box and pulled out the picture album. I spent about half an hour going through it I knew what I wanted should be there. I carefully picked though page after page of Christmas's, birthdays, and Thanksgivings with no luck. In the end I found it tucked away in a little wallet like thing inside the back cover. It was a picture of Josh and Caroline. Of course he looked young, he'd died when he was seventeen, a tall friendly looking boy his Scandinavian heritage evident in this lanky frame and dirty blonde hair. He looked nice but dull. The standard all American kid, not smart enough to be a nerd not athletic enough to be a jock. The kind of kid who somehow just makes it through life. Except this one hadn't. She looked young and very happy, caught in that spontaneous moment that was either reality or Pearson. For I while I tried to imagine what their life together would have been like if he'd survived. One thing seemed clear Caroline wouldn't have been an unwilling guest in my basement. I could almost see her dragging a dusty faced blonde daughter around that cottage in Iowa, with perhaps another child on the way. Even when times were tough I got the feeling they would be happy. Josh Petersson and Caroline Conway; a future that didn't happen. Time to make breakfast. I figured she'd have quite an appetite when she awoke so I started into a more lavish spread than normal. Soon I'd have to start controlling her calorie intake and arrange for some exercise or the enforced inactivity would start to have its effects on her waistline. For now I indulged her with a meal designed as much to comfort as to feed. By seven it was ready and I went downstairs to collect her. She blinked in surprise as I woke her. Up until then I'd waited until she was awake before fetching her. Her face was still red and tearstained so after she had used the toilet I freed her hands and had her wash up. The rest was almost a ritual. I refastened her hands, attached the leash and led her to the table. Once there she sat on my lap while I fed her by hand. I'd found that I liked feeding her, like having a gag always dangling about her neck it was a constant reminder who was in charge, who had the power in this relationship. I was pleased to see her eating well and I could feel her strength returning. This time I dispensed with the syrup trick, I needed this outfit in good condition for the next posture session. So after fastening the collar to an overhead wire I released her and told her to strip. She did in an almost mechanical way and I could see there was something on her mind. I admit to having something planned too and as she wiggled out of the leather I was positioning the photofloods to point at one of the restraintless walls. She watched silently as I retrieved some clothes from the wardrobe. Walking over I threw them on the table. "Put these on, everything but the gloves." She complied quickly and I stood back to admire the result. The outfit was not that much different from what she had worn on her first night. A shiny black latex halter top came first. The rubber was ribbed to give it a corset like effect. It hugged her upper body pushing her tits up and out in a pleasing way while leaving her stomach bare. Next came a matching black latex garter belt, I'd removed the elastic so it was really only being used as a sash to cover the area between her hips and her shaved pubis. The latex boots which came to the top of her creamy thighs were little more than thigh high latex stockings with five inch heels attached, they tied at the top and hugged her legs like a second skin. At this point I had her stop and apply makeup as directed. The last time I'd been concerned with her having a natural look so her makeup had been underplayed. Now I wanted the young vamp look, lot's of makeup but applied in a way that still left her looking young and fresh. I selected a baby doll pink lipstick and blusher combination and waited for her to apply it. "More photo's?" She asked. "Yep, Slave's gota earn her keep." I could tell she wanted to say something but she seemed to change her mind and instead did what I asked. I brushed her hair back into a ponytail. Much as I liked it long I could tell that she was going to have to have it bobbed. Truth was that long hair was hard to keep looking good without regular styling, something I couldn't do easily myself. I figured I'd keep it like this for a couple of weeks and then I'd have to do something about it. She finished up with a long pair of latex gloves which she pulled up her arms as I finished prepping the camera. Now there was only one thing left to do. With my fingers mentally crossed I put a pair of earrings and a choker on the table and removed the collar. Caroline was now completely free for the first time since I took her. She seemed a little shocked and I noticed her glance fleetingly at the dungeon door. "It's locked," I said while I fiddled with the tripod. "You'd need a torch to cut through it. Now put on the jewellery and stand over by the wall." She dragged her eyes away from the door and started to put on the earrings. Remembering the lessons from yesterday she attempted to slink over to the wall. However it became obvious that she missed the ankle support of the leather boots and twice she almost fell. Eventually she made it to the wall and stood awaiting instructions. First I had her stand with her legs slightly crossed, hands on hips, pouting slightly. The shot was nice, immediately establishing her as a young rubber slut. As I'd hoped the crossing of her legs had forced her thighs hard together and the latex boots, gloved hands and garter belt formed a black latex frame for the triangle of her shaved cunt. Her breasts strained against the rubber in a most appealing way and the look on her face just screamed fuck me. I knew immediately that this first shot was a "Pearson" and it seemed like a good omen for the rest of the session. Next up I had her face the wall then press herself against it like a criminal being frisked. I took a shot but the composition lacked something. I had her spread her legs more and I tried another. Still not quite right so I had her turn her upper body slightly so that I could see her face in profile. This worked much better so after repositioning her hands and head I took the final shot. To my mind this picture looks like a raid on a brothel. A young slut is thrown against the wall still dressed in her fetishwear, her long mane of blond hair almost down to her bare behind. She half turns towards the young rookie cop left to guard her and makes her proposition. If he looks the other way and lets her escape she'll be so grateful. She only does this to pay her way through college, her mother would die if she knew. If he lets her go she'll meet him later and show her gratitude.... For the next shot I had her lie down her hot ass stuck up towards the camera. I took a number of different shots with her looking back over her ass towards the camera. I tried a number of different expressions from surprise though lust to fear. The shot that finally worked for me was one were I had her twist her body slightly towards the camera and prop her head up with her gloved hand. The clothes, the pose, the look all tell you this is a hot cunt just looking for a fucking and the picture wasn't lying. Looking into Caroline's eyes I could see that the sexual addiction I'd tried so hard to establish was finally taking hold. She was wanting it bad which gave me an idea. I had her stand and using the remote I programmed a track into the sound system. "Now slave we are going to try something freeform. I want you to interpret the music for me just do whatever you feel." She looked unsure so remembering my experience from last night I suggested that she closed her eyes. "Ok slave I want you to imagine this. You are still a student, and have one day to get enough money to pay your rent or you loose the apartment. One of your friends has told you of a club she works at when times are tough. She says that they always need dancers and that a girl willing to work at it can make some good money. You asked the owner but he thinks you are too dowdy and plain. You beg you are so desperate and in the end he gives you a trial; if you get a good response from his customers he'll give you the job." I could see her trembling, one latex covered hand had made it's way down to her crotch and she was already rubbing the slick palm against her hot lips. Encouraged I continued. "You look through the wardrobe, they have all sorts of things, nurses and cops uniforms, bathing suits but realising that you have to make a good impression you pick the riskiest outfit you can find. It's slick black rubber and it clings to your body like a second skin. You can feel it's touch, smell the scent of hot rubber mixed with the sweat of all the other girls who have worn it. Can you feel it slave?" "Yes," She whispered. Her other hand had found her tits and a finger was doing an orbit of the bump made by one of her erect nipples. She was breathing heavily and I could tell she was almost ready. "You're standing in the wings waiting to go on. There are about thirty men in tonight most of them middle aged business men. You see your friend dancing naked at one guy's table a bundle of greenbacks clutched in one hand. She thrusts a tit almost in his face and he's going crazy 'cos he isn't allowed to touch. Now it's your turn, the manager passes you as he goes on to make the announcement. He nods and makes encouraging noises. You feel nervous as you step out feeling all those eyes on you. You stand ready knowing that your future rests on the next ten minutes." I punched the play button and the hidden speakers hummed into life. There was a throbbing opening base rift and the song exploded into the room. I'd chosen was the Divinyls track "I Touch Myself" to start with and a couple of their others in case she kept going. The music seized her immediately and she started to gyrate, touching herself as she felt the need. I had a post in the room that I used for bondage purposes and I started to wish that is was nearer. Caroline would have made a hell of a pole dancer, she was sexy, seductive and even with her eyes closed she looked as if she enjoyed it. I adjusted the lights so that they shone directly at her, she would be unable to see past them. "Open your eyes sweetheart," I said. When she did I continued. "The lights blind you but you know that beyond the glare, thirty guys are watching you. You can feel their eyes on your skin, undressing you even further. They all want you, you can feel their lust coming over you in waves. Feel thirty imaginary pairs of hands caressing your body, on your tits, on your ass, brushing your cunt." She trashed around pouting seductively for the imaginary audience caught up completely in her role. At times she was unsteady and natural talent had to make up for her lack of technique but at that moment she was a sex goddess and deep inside she knew it. I watched captivated as she strutted the floor pausing to pose suggestively or to touch herself again. Then I suddenly realised that in my excitement I hadn't taken any shots. I quickly started taking a series of her roving hands drifting between tits and cunt. She arched her back eyes once again closed one hand drifted up and released her hair which tumbled around her shoulders. A quick quarter turn of her head and she flicked it out so that the golden strands now covered her tits as well. Then as I watched both hands drifted backwards towards the straps that held the halter in place. It had been designed for easy removal, always a consideration when the wearer is intended to be bound. She found the release and it dropped away from her shoulders. One arm kept it clutched to her body and then she started to move it rubbing it's silky smoothness over her tits and belly. She arched her back teasing the imaginary audience with a suggestion of breast all the time getting the tactile stimulation from rubbing the latex against her hot body. Finally she tossed it aside leaving her erect nipples free to be played with. I focused in for a close-up as she took both nipples between thumb and forefinger and gently rolled them, then she flicked her head back and moaned. Again she arched her back and one hand returned to her dripping box. Using the two outer fingers to spread the lips she started to tickle her clit. She slipped a finger inside, then two by now the moans were rapidly becoming squeals. Two more quick photos, one a close-up of her finger fucking herself the other showing her enraptured face so her identity was in no doubt and I found myself out of film. I could account for less than half of the 36 frames. Still I knew I had some hot shots and I looked forward to seeing what else I'd taken. Looking at her I could tell that she was close and I had already decided that for the time being she should only cum by my hand. I didn't like being a party pooper but it couldn't be helped. I pulled a pair of handcuffs from my pocket and quietly came up behind her. Not that being quiet was necessary the music was loud and she was too far gone to care. I took the hand that was playing with her nipples first, she didn't resist I don't think she even noticed as I closed the cuff around it. Pulling it down behind her I grabbed the other wrist. Now she resisted, she was so close she would have killed at that moment. Still I was stronger and in a better position so after a brief struggle I managed to cuff the other wrist in place. She moaned and started to rub her thighs together. When that didn't work she turned and started rubbing her cunt against the thigh of my leather pants, I twisted her around. I had intended to deny her an orgasm and keep her wanting it for the rest of the day but she had danced so well I decided to give her a break. I twisted her to face me, pulling her close until I felt one erect nipple embed itself in my chest. Grabbing a handful of hair I twisted her head until she was looking into my eyes. Then very deliberately I slowly finger fucked her with my free hand. One finger tickled her clit as I thrust another as deep as I could inside her. She clamped down squeezing the finger tightly. Leaving my thumb to work on the nub I thrust two more fingers inside and was rewarded by a gasp as she trust her hips towards me. Then I slowly brought her off, listening to her cries as the decibel level rose. All the time I was watching her emotions though the lust glazed windows of her eyes. First came need mixed with a little embarrassment. As she came closer the need started to take over completely and her cunt started to clamp down even harder on my leather covered fingers. Next came a look of rapture which coincided with the spasm my fingers felt deep inside her. Then she gave a look of fulfilment, a deep sigh and then she smiled in a dreamy way. For a second there was something new and something totally unexpected. For an instant before she broke my gaze there was something that just possibly could be love. I brought my gloved hand up to her mouth and had her suck the fingers clean. This took longer than I'd thought and her little tongue movements were deliberately suggestive. It also seemed that she liked the smell of pussy juice and leather which is useful when you are trying to make a girl into a leather slut. I lead her back to the table and replaced the collar fastening it again to one of the chains over the table. I freed her hands and for a moment considered retrieving the halter. In the end I left her topless and busied myself tidying up the dungeon. She sat on the edge of the table licking the juices from her fingers deep in thought. In the end I had to know. "Ok out with it Slave." "Sorry Master?" "The little speech you're composing right now, I want to hear it." She took a deep breath, "My college tuition, it's a scholarship." I must have looked surprised, certainly that wasn't what I'd expected her to say. It seemed as relevant to what had just happened as the gross national product of Guam. "So?" I asked. "If I let it lapse then I won't get another opportunity. I know you intend to keep me for some time, perhaps for years but sooner or later you'll get tired of me and let me go. I want a future Master, I want an education." "So?" I must have sounded really stupid but the conversation was so incredible I was lost for words. She took another deep breath then said the rest in one breathless sentence so as not to give me chance to interrupt. "If you let me go back I'll be your slave. I won't tell anyone about what happened. Please! During term time I'll be available any time you call and I will happily return here during any breaks or holidays. After I graduate you can >From jmauer7782@aol.com Wed Dec 25 22:46:46 1996 Path: news.ptd.net!news.ptd.net!newsjunkie.ans.net!newsfeeds.ans.net!newsxfer2.itd.umich.edu!cliffs.rs.itd.umich.edu!portc01.blue.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: jmauer7782@aol.com (JMauer7782) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: LEXtext: Captured Caroline 9a(M/ff NC/Cons B&D) Date: 26 Dec 1996 03:46:46 GMT Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com Lines: 257 Message-ID: <19961226034500.WAA13186@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Xref: news.ptd.net alt.sex.stories:145298 ***************************************************************** STANDARD DISCLAIMER =================== The following piece of fiction is intended as ADULT entertainment and has been posted only to an appropriate group on the Internet. If it is found in any other place this is not the responsibility of the author. All characters in this story are fictitious, any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities detailed in this story, some of which are dangerous or illegal. Quin 1996 tmquin@ibm.net ***************************************************************** Captured Caroline. by Quin ====================== Chapter 9a: Meeting Maggie ======================= And strangely enough it was my geekyness that saved her. I'm a geek, a fact I freely admit that to anyone who would want to listen. I'm the guy who actually buys things from the gadget catalogues you find on airplanes. Lot's of things that I own have computers in them even ones that don't really need them. It's hardly surprising then that when I came to build a dream house it was a "smart building". I could talk at length about optical packet busses and redundant control but is enough to say that one machine is dedicated to the security aspects of keeping a slave. Suicide was one unpleasantness that I'd been forced to consider. Some people don't react well to being locked up. Taking their own life is sometimes preferable and any prison warder can tell of ingenious suicides even when the inmate was being closely watched. When Caroline collapsed she had enough slack chain to fall perhaps 3 feet before it became taught. At the very least that could hurt as the collar pulled tight, at worst she could break her neck. The moment the mounting point came under load a strain gauge registered the sudden impulse and this was sent to the computer. Now the computer understands the difference between static and impulse loading, it will let much more than Caroline's weight be applied to the chain but not suddenly. In the instant she fell at a speed far faster that any human could react the machine determined she was in danger and fired an explosive bolt severing the mounting at the ceiling. She lay on the floor winded and too surprised to do anything as the chain landed on her. When my heart started beating again I reached down and helped her up. With a strength I didn't know I had I lifted her as if she was a rag doll. "What the fuck is the matter with you!" I almost screamed, "Are you trying to kill yourself." "You...you said...." "What the fuck does that mater!!" I shook her. For the first time I came within a heartbeat of hitting her. She started to cry. "About the baby being a GIRL." She said as if the answer was somehow self evident. I put her on the table, my anger started to subside. In the background part of my mind continued to analyse what I'd discovered. The conclusion was that I'd kidnapped a mad woman. It wasn't good but it did calm me down. "A joke," I said, "That's all. If I'd realised there was lemming blood in your family I'd have been more careful." "So it's a joke?" "We need to discuss this, " I said, "But not now." I pushed her back against the table and locked the chain to one of the tables mountings. I wanted her secure before I proceeded any further. "Now take the gloves off." As she started to comply I went over to the cupboard and started to root around inside. She was finished by the time I returned. She eyed the new contraptions with some dread, she couldn't tell how upset I was and she didn't know if this was some new torture device. It took the treat of the crop to get her to place her hands behind her back and hold steady while I pulled the single sleeve up her arms. When it reached the top I buckled the top strap and replaced her collar with the posture collar already attached to the sleeve. Next came five minutes of tightening numerous straps. When I finished I stepped back to admire my handiwork. Houdini once said that straight jackets were easy to overcome once you realised that they were designed to hold crazy people. This creation from a fetish supplier in England made no such mistakes, made from black leather with buckles everywhere it left no room for escape. She was still struggling with it when I went to phase 2. First, I again placed her hair in a ponytail. Then I reached for a nest of straps on the table. She didn't know what most of it was for but she could guess were the rubber ball was going. "Please?" "Open!" I commanded in no mood to be messed around. She hesitated but not for long and I pushed the large rubber ball firmly into her mouth. For some reason they call this a ball gag trainer, despite the fact that it is considerably better designed than a ball gag. As well as the usual ball and strap there is a harness that attaches to the strap then runs either side of the victims nose to buckle at the back of the head. A second strap passes under the chin to force the jaw tightly closed around the ball. It is very effective and has the added advantage that once locked in place it can't be worked free even if the victim has the use of her hands. Yesterdays fiasco would not happen again. Once everything was strapped and locked I decided to keep her entertained and distracted. I showed her what I had in mind, a vibrator and harness just as inescapable as the rest of the bondage. It had an added twist, a block of tiny rubber fingers that fastened over the clit and which the designers claimed increased the stimulation without improving the chances of achieving orgasm. This seemed like a good time to test it -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |