The kidnaping
by Michael Elk
I pay the price for having rich parents


1.

I suppose I should have been alert to the possibility of being kidnaped. After
all, I was the son of one of the wealthiest Realtors in the state. However I
was young and naive (stupid ?), and assumed that I was immune. No! I hadn't
assumed that at all. The possibility of attack had never even tickled my
thought processes. So as soon as I'd graduated from college and got my first
job, I'd flown the relative safety of locked gates and the comfort of
servants, to take an apartment and fend for myself in the real world. However
even had I been vigilant, it is doubtful I would
ever have suspected from where the danger would come.

It was on a Monday morning that I first saw Corinne (at least that was what
she claimed was her name when we eventually introduced ourselves). We both
happened to be waiting for the same bus; the bus that I took downtown each
workday. She was a few years older than I was, about 5' 9", with a slender,
athletic figure and broad, sturdy shoulders. Her hair was black and crinkly
straight, with a few blond streaks, and tied in a knot at the back. She wasn't
outstandingly beautiful, but with her dark complexion (obviously Asian or
African heritage) and confident air, she was about the sexiest thing I'd
experienced since college. She was there at the bus stop again the next day
and the next. Apparently we were both heading downtown each morning at about
the same time. It took me a couple of days before I got up the nerve to talk
to her, but soon we were chatting casually each morning until the bus arrived.

I guess I was to blame for my own fate because I was the one who eventually
requested the date; but no doubt she had choreographed the dance. How could I
have known that I was being set up? It had appeared natural for the two of us
to share the same bus at the same time each day. Then she had waited patiently
for two mornings, knowing that I would eventually speak to an attractive
woman. Her only initiative had been the invitation to share her seat, and that
had been after more than a week.

Corinne was far from the girl next door. She came off as tough and competent,
a bit rough around the edges - the type who would be comfortable twisting
semi-naked around a pole or serving up beer and whisky in a smoke-filled bar.
Perhaps I found her sexy because she made no effort to be 'nice' and was so
different from the 'nice' girls that I usually dated. She wasn't someone I'd
have taken home to my parents, but then I had no intention of marrying her. My
immediate and my only desire was to get her into bed. I wasn't super
experienced that way, but would have been willing to bet that she was. And she
didn't laugh at my jokes like most of the girls I'd dated. Usually at my
attempts at humor, there would be little or no reaction, and she would simply
ignore my effort and change the subject. The odd time I managed to evoke a
smirk was almost cause for celebration. She forced me to work at the
relationship, and her apparent lack of interest made her seem remote and
exotic, and ever more desirable than had she flung herself at me. Afterwards,
I could see how, by remaining relatively passive, she had dominated the affair
and directed its outcome.

We only had the one date. Corinne suggested (insisted ?) that we meet at a
restaurant rather than my picking her up at her apartment. That should have
aroused my curiosity, because our daily meetings at the bus stop should have
dictated that she lived nearby. But my fate was sealed as soon as I arrived at
the restaurant and gazed upon my date and saw her for the first time dressed
up. Her everyday garb had been business apparel, and she had looked great in
that. But now she wore a short black dress that accentuated her figure, black
shoes and black stockings, which covered and caressed the kind of legs that
make men drool and that are essential in insuring the continuation of the
species. At her side was a small black purse that reminded me of a money pouch
and that was attached by a strap around her shoulder. When I had joked that
such a small purse couldn't possibly hold everything a woman required, she had
smiled, Mona Lisa like, and stated that it held "all I will need tonight".

I was completely infatuated. I could have been given all kinds of clues (and
probably was) to the intent of this vision of feminine pulchritude and I would
have ignored them all, blinded as I was through lust and desire. Even had she
informed me openly of her evil aim, my desire to get her into bed would have
over-ridden all logic and I still likely would have blundered on to the same
fate.

2.

I never even got a chance to make a move on her. She had accepted my
invitation to my apartment for coffee, but she was the one who made the move,
and she wasted little time in doing so. She asked me to close my eyes, and
then she approached me from behind. Of course I was intrigued until the cloth
bag descended over my head and I felt the draw string pull tight around my
neck.

"Hey!" I cried in surprise, my speech badly muffled by the sack. I assumed
that this was some kind of a joke, but being severely claustrophobic, my first
reaction was to get at the bag, and to get it off quickly. But when I tried to
reach up to loosen it, Corinne's arms suddenly closed on my body, trapping my
own arms against my sides. I still thought that she was only playing, but when
I couldn't reach the sack and couldn't break her grip, I panicked and pushed
backwards, driving us hard against a wall. I heard an 'OOF' from behind me as
her back hit the partition. I had a moment of guilt because I felt her grip
loosen and thought I might have injured her.

But we were off-balance, and both of us wound up sitting on the floor with me
in front and her behind. Immediately her arms tightened around me once more
and once more prevented me getting at the sack. I felt her legs come up and
over mine, felt her feet hook the inside of my thighs, and felt the sudden
outward pressure on my legs. However I was so focused on working my arms free
to rid me of that horrid sack, that I didn't realize that her reverse
grapevine had largely immobilized my legs, and that it would have been most
difficult to stand had I tried.

Unless you have a phobia yourself, you have no idea how dreadful that sack
felt. And my struggles were fruitless. I had little leverage to free my arms
and this female wrapped around me was amazingly strong. Frustration and fear
overtook me as I writhed in her grip, and panic destroyed any possible use of
reason I might have employed in my attempt to escape. Eventually I ceased my
wild gyrations and lay exhausted in her arms. Then I heard myself pleading and
crying between gasps for breath. The bag was cotton and loosely woven, or I
might have passed out, but I suddenly needed huge quantities of oxygen, and
wasn't getting nearly enough.

Then my right arm was released, and I gratefully made for the sack. I stuck my
thumb between my neck and the cloth and worked at loosening the cord.
Fortunately she hadn't tied the cord and it slackened nicely. With immense
relief I pulled the sack off my head, and gratefully inhaled quantities of
cool, delicious air, only to realize that, while I was busy dealing with the
sack, my left wrist had been captured by her two free hands, and the arm was
in the process of being twisted around behind my back. My joy at having
escaped the sack was quickly replaced by the pain of having my arm forced high
up against my shoulder blade.

3.

With her legs entwined with mine and my arm bent painfully out of commission,
an easy escape was unlikely. Nevertheless, my mind wouldn't accept such
imprisonment by a female, and I wriggled and struggled fruitlessly in her
grip. She could control my arm with only one hand, and she began using the
free one to cuff the side of the head until I stopped fighting. By then I was
too tired to move anyway, and passively lay back against my captor. I was
aware of her breasts, soft against my imprisoned arm, and I felt myself
unwillingly harden with the thought that it was a woman manhandling me this
way.

But she wasn't finished. Her right arm looped around my free one (my right
also) from the outside inward, and her right hand latched onto my left wrist,
thereby severely immobilizing both of my arms and leaving her left one free. I
struggled to jerk my wrist out of her grip, but had little leverage with my
arm behind my back. And she was latched onto it so tightly and with such
strength that my wrist would show bruises for a week afterward.

"Relax, fucker." she hissed in my ear. "You're not going anywhere. Feel my
strength. You asked what was in my purse. Now I'll show you."

I heard the zipper of the purse, but was more focused on my shock at the
language she'd used.. She'd always come off as rough-cut, but I hadn't
witnessed her swear like that. Then the sudden odor that permeated the room
told me what she had in the purse and what she had in mind. Again I found
myself struggling frantically and fruitlessly as she brought the chloroform-
laced cloth to my face. I did manage to shake my legs free and to roll us both
onto our sides, only to watch nylon-ed legs encircle my waste, lock together
at the ankles and reestablish control. I held my breath and shook my head
furiously in an attempt to dislodge the chemically soaked material. However
she was too strong and quickly secured the fabric against my nose and pulled
my head tightly against her chest, effectively immobilizing me and making it
impossible to pull free of the cloth. Eventually I had to breath, and when I
did, I capitulated completely, inhaling deeply. I could feel the severe
dizziness on the first breath, but I was exhausted and accepted my fate by
making no further effort to resist. I became only an impartial bystander,
witnessing the effects of the drug, and remaining cognizant well into the
third breath.

4.

I awoke with a nasty headache, clothed only in my boxer shorts, lying on a
bed, covered by a sheet. The room was fairly large, but aside from the bed,
contained only a night table and a lamp.

The first thing I noticed was that the window was covered with plywood. The
next was that my leg was attached to the iron rung of the bed by a short
chain.

Within a few minutes, Corinne entered through the open door. She wore blue
jeans and a white blouse that set off her dark complexion. She looked sexy as
hell, in spite of my recent rough treatment at her hands. "Well, the Kraken
wakes", she said. "Feel up to getting your picture taken?"

"What are you doing?" I whined, both angry and scared at the same time, and
not at all accepting of what had happened.

"Why, I'm kidnaping you. Isn't it obvious? I figure with your parents income,
you should be worth at least a quarter million. Now, sit on the side of the
bed and hold up today's newspaper, so I can get your picture and prove that
you're still alive and healthy."

"You can't seriously think I'd cooperate. This is a crime, and you're going to
do time?" - that was said with more bluster and confidence than I felt, and
the unplanned poetry left me feeling ridiculous as well.

"Oh, you'll cooperate all right! Thought you might need a little convincing,
so I brought along a persuader." She stepped out into the hall and returned
with a vicious-looking leather whip. The handle was only about 3 feet long,
but terminated at the end with 5 or 6 short strips of rawhide. Before I could
comprehend the danger and react, she swung the whip and brought it savagely
over my shoulders. I screamed with the sudden pain, only to receive another
blow before I could sit up. She stood over me, like some avenging goddess,
swinging that cat-o'-nine-tails as hard and as fast as she could. On the third
strike, I tried to grab the whip, and got my hand on a couple of strips of
rawhide. However they were smooth and thin, and as she drew the whip back,
they easily pulled through my fingers, cutting the skin between the fingers as
they went.

Then, without conscious planning, I was on my knees and leaping for my
tormentor. But she simply stepped back (letting me discover the limitations of
the chain around my ankle), and then suddenly forward again, taking advantage
of my distraction, and bringing the whip across my ravaged shoulders once
again while I was off balanced.

The next few minutes we sparred, with my tormentor retreating and advancing in
exact opposition to my movements, as I alternately tried to get hold of her or
jump back to avoid the flailing of the whip. But my success rate wasn't high
and I found myself being driven backwards. She was amazingly quick and agile,
and moved with the smoothness of a gladiator, athletically dodging my thrusts
and delivering painful blow to my legs, arms and torso when I missed. I was
losing the battle, and it was all too evident that my only route was
surrender.

"OK! OK! I give." I hollered and hurled myself down on the bed, curling into
the fetal position.

But my pain did not lessen as I'd expected. She quickly moved over me and
began to hit me with the whip as I lay there, now totally defenseless. "You
will obey me at all times, and unconditionally, do you hear?" She shrieked
like a mad woman, hovering directly above me, the whip drawn back and
menacing.

"Yes, yes" I screamed, hoping she was finished. But the whip descended once
again in spite of my capitulation. I was without defense and completely
helpless. But my tormentor showed little mercy as she struck me several more
times, all the while berating me for lack of cooperation and demanding
compliance. I drew the sheet over my body which helped lessen the damage from
the blows, but by the time she ceased beating me, I was a whimpering ,
pleading wreck, with no self-respect left, and a person who would think twice
before crossing this sadistic witch in the future.

She gave me a long sleeve shirt to cover the welts that criss-crossed my body.
Then I sat on the bed and allowed my captor to click away with the camera,
while I obediently held up the newspaper for all to see. Once the photo shoot
was completed, the shirt was confiscated and I was returned to my former state
of undress. That night and the next, I slept on my stomach because my back was
so tender. Even then I slept only sporadically, because any time I moved, the
pain from her beating would jar me into consciousness.

5.

My days were spent in boredom lying on the bed, with a new photo shoot about
every second day. Three times a day, the short chain that held me captive was
replaced by a longer one, that allowed me access to the washroom. No doubt I
could have attacked Corinne while I was on the longer chain, but without the
key to the lock, the result wouldn't have been pleasant. As well, she had a
certain authority about her that didn't invite revolt. Perhaps it was because
I'd been beaten by her twice, and had gained both a very damaged male ego and
a healthy respect for her strength. And after what she'd done to me, I wasn't
certain whether or not I could defeat her in an even fight.

Somewhere near the end of the first week, Corinne began allowing me
downstairs, using a system of two longer chains, so that I could be moved
while always under lock. She would attach a second chain to my other ankle,
take that key to a distant part of the house, out of my reach, then return
with the key to the first chain.

Corinne wasn't particularly talkative, but we only had each other for company,
and we usually got chatting over something or other. That was how I learned of
my removal from my apartment the night she had chloroformed me. She had waited
until 4:00 am, doused me with rum, and then walked me, my arm over her
shoulder, out to her car. Had anyone spotted us, it would have appeared that I
was drunk. A simple plot, but again I was impressed by the strength needed to
practically carry a grown man. She also mentioned that it had been necessary
to re- chloroform me a couple of times during the night to insure that I
remained unconscious, and that she had kept a continual vigil over me and kept
me on my stomach in case I might be sick and choke.

"Why didn't you use a gun to kidnap me?" I asked. "Why make it so
complicated?"

"Well, a gun is too dangerous. It could have gone off accidently if you tried
to resist. You'd also have been conscious and able to call for help or else
tried to escape. I preferred my method because it was relatively without risk.
Suppose when I attacked you, that you had been too strong for me. What would
have happened? You probably thought I was just playing right up to the time I
chloroformed you. Likely had you got free of me, you'd have been angry at
being attacked, but written it off as a stupid prank on my part. I seriously
doubt you would have called in the authorities. And if you did think my
assault was serious, you're too nice a guy to beat up a woman. However, the
main reason that I attacked you like I did is that I'm a very physical person.
I've always been athletic and loved sports; and I almost always win at them. I
just plain like a good challenge and a good tussle. And it was a real high for
me taking down a male with muscle power alone. Sorry to tell you, but beating
up on you was amazingly erotic. I'd never physically fought with a boy before
and I didn't exactly expect my body's reaction, but I was really aroused.
While I was wrapped around you, holding you down and then drugging you, my
nipples got so hard that they actually hurt. "

6.

In spite of being under her total control, my captor began to grow on me.
Perhaps it was precisely because I was under her total control. There was
something titillating about being dominated unwillingly by a female. And
Corinne was far from unattractive. I often found myself staring at her slender
figure or her plumb, muscular buttocks, or ogling her breasts as she knelt to
chain my leg. I fantasized reversing our roles and taking advantage of her
sexually, and my helplessness was frustratingly erotic. Often when she was
around me, I became fully aroused and erect, but with no power to do anything
except try to hide my excitement from its source. God but I wanted to get her
into bed.

"Have you contacted my parents?" I asked one time as we sat across from each
other over supper.

"Oh, yes, of course. It's not easy, though. I have to drive at least 30 miles
from here and mail the photos to them. No doubt their home phone is tapped,
and I don't want them to have a record of my voice, so I do everything by
mail. Takes a little longer but it's a heck of a lot safer."

"Didn't you tell them not to notify the police?" I asked, suddenly realizing
the fate she might have planned for me.

"Of course. But we kidnappers expect that the police will be called in."

"Then how could you possibly get any money without revealing yourself?"

"How's this for a plan? I send your father in a car by himself, giving
occasional directions by cell phone. He arrives at a farm that I know about
where the farmer has a two-seater ultra- light, has been paid handsomely, and
will be waiting at the proper time to take a passenger on a flight. It makes
no difference if the farmer is told of the kidnaping at this point, because
your father will know that he has one chance and one chance only to buy you
back, and will have no choice but to follow through with my instructions.
There will be a tape recorder with ear phones - I haven't figured out how to
get those to him yet - that will direct your father where to head once in the
air. He could never hear a phone above the noise of the motor. A half mile
from the farm is a busy, 6 lane highway. He will drop the money from the plane
beside a bridge overpass, under which I'll be stationed with my car. There is
no access to that highway for 15 miles before the overpass, so no patrolmen
will be able to get to me quickly. Of course there will also be no police
helicopter because I will threaten to call off the exchange if I detect one,
and those things aren't quiet. I will transfer the money to a fresh valise,
one without a direction locator, and disappear into the heavy traffic.

"What do you think? Think it might work?"

I had listened horrified as I realized that she possibly could get the money
and escape. Then I would be the only witness. "You're going to kill me aren't
you?"

She smirked wickedly. "Well I guess you've noticed that I'm just a trifle
sadistic. But I've never killed anyone yet. God, though just think. It would
be the ultimate domination of female over male. I suppose I might enjoy the
exercise!

"Relax." she continued with a chuckle. "A woman can change her looks
significantly with a bit of money. You don't know my real name, or even where
you are located- though it doesn't matter since I rented the house under an
assumed name. I'll be long gone and miles away from here by the time they find
you. I'll have to create a delay mechanism on your release, and I haven't
figured that one out yet."

I tried to feel reassured, but I found it hard to believe her.

7

On the 11th or 12th day of my captivity a new phase in our relationship
developed. In retrospect, I don't think it was planned by Corinne, but whether
or not it was, my situation changed radically that day.

"We're taking a walk in the woods." she announced one morning about 9:00 am. I
was attached to the bed at the time by the longer chain and had just returned
from showering and brushing my teeth. "Sit down on the bed and put your hands
behind your back. You'll have to be restrained."

"No! I won't. You're going to kill me aren't you!"

It was the first time, I'd ever heard her break out in laughter. "I could kill
you anytime I want to. But I haven't, have I. You're worth more alive. Hell!
I'd have to prop you up in a chair with the newspaper for our pictures if you
were dead. No! You just need a little sun and some color in your face. Now, do
as I say and get those hands behind your back or we'll have another session
with the cat-o'-nine-tails. And you well know what a sadistic bitch I am. I
haven't whipped your ass in over a week, and I feel the itch coming on."

Her argument was impeccable, and I submitted meekly rather than face that whip
again. She plopped down beside me on the bed, and drew my hands behind my
back. I couldn't see what she was doing, but was acutely aware of the heat of
her body at such close range. Then I felt her attaching those thin plastic
bands (that one sees on TV) to my wrists. I had no idea how they fastened, but
soon my wrists were bound tightly together. Later, at various times during our
walk, I would try to break the plastic and find it impossible.

I was still in boxer shorts, and that is how I was dressed for our walk -
though she did allow me sandals. It was a good thing that the temperature was
in the high 80's, but I wasn't happy about going outside in my underwear.

She carried the whip and a small valise, as she led me around behind the
house. For the first time I saw that my prison was a farmhouse and was quite
isolated. We traveled about 300 yards (by my estimate) into a thinly treed
woods, and several times I considered making a break for freedom. However I'd
had no exercise for over a week, and I felt a lot less athletic than Corinne
looked. I doubted I could out-run her for long with my hands tied behind me.
Besides she carried that menacing whip, and that was more than enough, as
usual, to make me toe the line.

We arrived at an opening in the forest, and she forced me to sit down with my
legs on either side of a small 4 inch diameter tree. I was torn by doubts, not
knowing what she was up to, but reluctantly obeyed under the verbal treat of a
whipping. Then she removed a short chain from the valise and cuffed each end
to one of my ankles so that my feet were locked around the trunk of the tree.

"No I'm not going to kill you, so relax. But I need you away from the house
for a couple of hours. The owner called last night and wants to check the
water heater in the basement this morning. I suspects he just wants to make
sure that I'm not wrecking the place, but you would be a bit of an
embarrassment. We're out of earshot here so shout all you want. I'll leave a
bottle of water in case you get thirsty. Lean forward so that I can cut off
those plastic cuffs. Hope you enjoy your little outing."

And with that, she turned her back and departed; and I watched her solid,
muscular rear until it disappeared from view behind the nearer trees. The tree
I was attached to was not very big around, but it was at least 25 feet tall
with many branches, and even with my hands free, escape didn't appear likely.

8.

I must have dozed off, because I was jarred awake with a laughing Corinne
flopping down onto my stomach and straddling my body. Her hands clasped my
wrists and forced them down against the ground on either side of my head.
"Wake up, sleepyhead. I got rid of the evil landlord and your vacation in the
woods is over.", she said, leaning over me possessively, a huge smile on her
face. "Sorry I took so long, but I did have to invite him in for coffee and
play the role of the sweet, demure, and vulnerable female. I was great.

Corinne was as high as a kite. I'd never experienced her so cheerful. I might
have thought she was on drugs had I not known her as well as I did. I was
surprisingly glad to see this vixen hovering over me and pinning me to the
ground, and it wasn't only because my life had depended on her returning to
release me. I'd begun to notice each morning, or anytime, for that matter,
that if she was absent for an extended period, her entrance would give me a
lift and I'd actually feel a kind of elation over her presence. I'd lost most
of my fear of her, and of her intent, and I found myself enjoying her strong
personality. I just liked being around her.

It was only then that I noticed she was wearing a short, light blue dress. She
never wore a dress; nor had she been wearing one earlier that morning. Since
my kidnaping, she'd only sported blouses and jeans, so her present garb was
unusual. "Get off me." I said laughing, though I was relishing the sensation
of her body pressed against my naked skin, and even enjoying the feeling of
confinement as she held me down. "You weigh a ton."

"Oh, so now you think you can give the orders, while you're attached to this
tree and while I'm sitting on you, eh? Your position seems a little weak."
Then she leaned forward, and suddenly brought her lips to mine, and then her
tongue was forcing its way inside.

Her actions surprised me, and I felt myself rapidly becoming erect.
Illogically, I panicked at the thought of her discovering my arousal. Had I
been the aggressor and trying to seduce a female, my erection would not have
been a source of shame. However my male ego was still trying to come to terms
with being dominated by a female, and up to that point, I'd worked hard at
hiding the many erections that had been directed towards her. I certainly
liked her kissing me, but because of my half-buried shame, and a fear that she
might discover me enjoying the submissive role, I pulled away from her embrace
and turned my face sideways so that she couldn't get at my mouth again.

Her change in attitude was dramatic. Angrily she wrenched both my arms over my
head, viciously seized fingers from both my hands, and drew them together so
that she could clutch them in only one of her hands. I tried to pull free, but
she twisted on the fingers so savagely that I thought she might break them. I
howled in pain. Then I howled even louder as she slapped me hard across the
face - so hard that I was temporarily stunned. She hit me three more times,
probably a couple more than necessary, because the blows quickly shocked me
into a dazed submission.

She released my fingers at this point, and sat up erect as I lay passively
beneath her. She seemed to sense that there was no more fight left in me and
that force would no longer be necessary. Slowly and seductively she drew the
blue dress up and over her head, revealing that she wore nothing beneath. For
the first time, I saw her breasts, and the small, firm mounds took my breath
away. Once again she seized my wrists, leaned over me, and forced my arms to
the ground. But that was largely a symbolic gesture, since I no longer
attempted to resist.

Her mouth found and worried a nipple, and I quickly discovered how sensitive
the male breast can be. Now I desperately wanted her to kiss me, and to taste
and suck on her tongue. Instead she pulled back, half sitting up, and grabbed
my boxers by the waistband, quickly forcing them down to my knees. Then her
concentration focused on working and positioning her sex against mine. Her
hips pulled forward and I felt the lips of her labia warm and wet against the
tip of my staff. Then my penis was being slowly and deliciously swallowed,
snakelike, and the feeling was electric. She drew my engorged member fully
inside her before her body began to move languidly against mine. She took me
slowly, but forcefully, her hands clamped to my wrists and her arms braced as
she hovered over me. Her eyes never left my face, reinforcing her command and
punctuating my inferiority. It was the ultimate in domination, her watching my
vulnerability while she carried out the rape. I couldn't return her gaze, and
was forced to look at her chest instead. The breasts were gorgeously swelled,
aided by gravity, and the nipples were long and hard, like rubber tire studs,
and surrounded by dark purplish areolas. Looming menacingly above me, a
poignant reminder of female superiority, they dominated my universe and homed
their target like voluptuous, erotic missiles.

I consciously tried to hold back for my partner. But I doubt any male could
have lasted long with what was being done to me. My orgasm was explosive, and
as I came I heard myself whimpering and mewing like a kitten. Involuntary
sexual bleating is embarrassing enough, but I came far too early, and had to
suffer the shame of lying spent and passive as my partner continued to milk my
rapidly diminishing hardness. She never did appear to reach orgasm herself,
and the smirk on her face added as much to my mortification as had she
verbally berated me over my failure.

9.

I already mentioned that the episode in the woods changed my situation
completely. That evening, Corinne began to share my bed, and it sure wasn't
for sleep. It quickly became apparent that she liked her sex and had a healthy
libido. Of course, being a male, I was initially ecstatic about making love to
a willing and attractive girl. We would have sex three or four times each
night and usually once or twice in the morning. She liked to try different
courses in our ongoing repast, and I must confess that she taught me a few
things I didn't know (and one or two that I wouldn't have believed possible).
Always, though, she was the aggressor and always insisted on a dominant
position. However even ice cream becomes less desirable in excess. By the
third night, it was clear that she was insatiable, and that my lust was not as
strong as hers. One or two trysts of energetic and exhausting copulation would
be enough to satisfy me completely, and I would desire nothing further than to
claim a headache and get some sleep. However Corinne would often keep at me,
prodding and poking and teasing until I was once again erect, and once more
coerced into performing.

10.

It must have been nearly 4 weeks that I had been held captive, though I had
long since lost count of the days, Corinne woke me to tell me that I was going
home that same day. I asked her if the ransom had been paid, and she simply
said that it was too dangerous trying to collect and that she had given up on
the idea.

Later that afternoon, she blindfolded me, drove me for over an hour on some
circuitous route, and dropped me off on a deserted country road, requesting
only that I turn my back and not look at her car until it had disappeared from
view.

Events had been sudden and unexpected. I should have been elated at my new
freedom, but for some reason I felt awfully sad and even a little depressed.

11.

Six months had passed since I had been set free, and I had returned to my old
job and to my same apartment. The sensation of my kidnaping and my 'escape'
had made headlines for a couple of days, and my parents held a dinner for
relatives and a party for friends to welcome me home. Afterwards things had
largely returned to normal. Of course I was a lot more careful, and watched my
back when walking alone, but I really doubted that I was in much danger of
lightning striking twice.

It had taken me a few weeks to get over Corinne, but my boss liked me and I
was doing well in my job. I had been promoted and there seemed to be all kinds
of opportunity with the firm where I worked. Things were going well and I was
quite content with my situation.

Then, one evening, after dark, there was a knock on the door. You can imagine
my shock, on opening the door, to see Corinne standing there, large as life,
holding a suitcase.

"Close your mouth. It's gaping." she said, as naturally as though she'd never
committed a crime against me. Not a 'hello', or a 'sorry I kidnaped you' nor a
trace of remorse or hint of a smile. "May I come in?"

"Ye..Ye..Ye..Yes, sure." I stammered. "Are you crazy, Corinne? What are you
doing here?"

"My real name is Lisa, and you might as well get used to it." she responded as
she forged her way past my bewildered form, set her suitcase down and lowered
herself onto the sofa.

"Sit." she said, patting the cushion beside her. It had been a long time since
I'd disobeyed her, but the memory was still vivid and I hurried to follow the
order. However I sat as far from her as possible and remained wary lest she
suddenly jump up and attack.

"What's with this newspaper account of your abduction?" she said, pulling a
cut-out column from a sweater pocket. "The article says that you were held
captive by 2 men, and says that you were blindfolded the entire time and
couldn't identify them. Now why did you tell them that load of Bull?"

"Don't bother trying to explain!" she ordered. "I'll tell you why you said
that. Either you were too embarrassed about being kidnaped by a mere girl, and
would have had to tell them how I beat you up, or you really like me and
didn't want to get me in trouble?

" However I don't care what logic, or better illogic, you used, because it
doesn't really matter. If it was the first reason, then you've painted
yourself into a corner. You sure can't come out and accuse me now. You'd wind
up in jail for 5 years for obstruction of justice. And if it's the second
reason, then you must like the submissive role as much as I think you do, and
we're a perfect match. Either way, you've given me a lot of power over you and
I intend to make good use of your little gift.

" As soon as I read that article, I knew I was safe and came back to the city
right away. I only waited these 6 months so that our new association would
never be connected to your kidnaping. We're going to be close friends from now
on. In fact we're going to be boy- and girlfriend. You're going to introduce
me to your family, and gradually we're going to be seen together more and more
until our relationship becomes accepted. I can be amazingly sweet and demure,
and your friends and family will only see my angelic side. People do like me,
you know, and I'll be able to win them over. And you'll help by teaching me
the finer speech patterns and the manners of the upper class. I've never had
the opportunity to learn those 'til now.

"Of course, once we are alone and behind closed doors, I will exercise my true
nature. I will be the boss. And I will be very bossy. In fact you will be
completely subservient and obey my every command. And if you ever cross me, I
will enjoy reddening parts of your anatomy that just beg for the caress of a
firm hand.

"I think it will take at least 18 months, even 2 years, before your family
will accept our marriage. But we have all our future ahead, don't we? No need
to be in a rush. It's ironic that I will eventually benefit from your family's
money, but not at all in the way I'd planned.

"Now! Get into that bedroom and get your clothes off. I'll join you just as
soon as I get a couple of restraints from my suitcase. Oh! We're going to have
so much fun!"