The abduction
By Worshipper
Part 3


Surrounded by an array of pectoral muscles that kept them easily aloft, 
Rena’s breasts were large and well formed. Her nipple was stiff gainst 
my lips and then my tongue. A slightly animal, fresh smell rose from her 
and I thought I heard her breath slightly quicken. I moved my left hand 
to her other breast, fondling the nipple gently, then more vigorously, 
then gently again. My right hand moved up to her left arm and my fingers 
sought the rounded top of her bicep. As I touched it , her arms began to 
tense against the restraint and the feeling of a rising peak filled my 
entire hand. The solidity, the rock-like hardness inspired awe, terror, 
and an uncontrollable lust. I couldn’t stop myself from raising my left 
hand to the other impossibly huge muscle. I began to caress it and found 
myself leaning into her massive thigh, which, to my shock, she began to 
flex against my engorged member. Seconds later, I came: wave after wave 
of release coursed through my entire body, leaving me utterly spent. 

Moments later, mortified by my lack of control, I backed away from her 
weakly, with downcast eyes. “Ms. Danvers, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t 
control...” 

“Cool it Freddy, just don’t stop there. You need to get back to work.” 

Raising my eyes I saw an entirely different look in hers. There was a 
feverishness there now, and the movement of her chest and abs made it 
plain that her own breathing had become a good deal faster. 

“Get back here. Now.” 

“What... what do you want?” 

“I liked what you were doing with my breasts. Start there.” 

Eagerly, if a bit gingerly, I returned to Rena’s sweet-smelling chest, 
listening closely to her breathing, and alternating my hand and mouth on 
either breast. 

She began to gasp, “Freddy... move your hand down.” 

I caressed the bands of muscle over her stomach. 

“Down Freddy, down.” 

Nervously I started to slip my fingers beneath the waistband of her 
panties, waiting for her to object. Instead, she said, “Do it, do it...” 

She was very moist. My middle finger began a gentle exploration that 
became more intense as she pushed against it. Her gasps turned into 
little moans that grew and began to fill the room. With my face buried 
in one breast and one hand between her legs, her entire body seemed to 
tense and strain. She came with an ear-splitting “Yes!” Seconds later I 
looked up just in time to see one of the cast-iron restraints begin to 
loosen from its cement moorings. “Yes!” echoed again as her hand started 
to move from the wall. "Yes! Yes!" In utter panic I wrenched myself from 
her and fell at her feet. Jumping up and away I saw that one foot cuff 
already had been torn from the wall and the other was on the point of 
the same. "Yes!" I ran out the door and began to slam it just as I heard 
her rip the final hand restraint from its anchor. “I’m coming Freddy!”  

Somehow I shot the huge deadbolt before she reached the 4-inch thick 
steel door. Her first blow shook it and made a slight bulge in my side 
of the door. A second bulge followed quickly and was larger. 

By some miracle of planning I had installed a panic button in the hall. 
I had imagined using it if Rena gained consciousness before I wanted her 
to. Now I pushed it and her room was instantly flooded by clouds of 
fast-acting chloroform. 

Rena’s third blow to the door was like the second and I began to fear 
for the hinges, but her next attempt was weaker, and there wasn’t 
another. 

The chloroform had been measured to put her to sleep for two hours, but 
I pushed the button for a second dose. Later, reviewing the video tape, 
I saw that she had actually stayed conscious several additional minutes. 
The woman was incredible. 

It was about 4 a.m. I showered and changed. Then I roused my men, one of 
whom had installed the hand restraints. His face when I informed him of 
Rena’s escape was a mask of disbelief and fear. I ordered them to keep 
Rena unconscious as long as necessary and to install a new series of 
cuffs, with anchors based twice as deep. This time the wrist cuffs would 
be nearer her head, so that her bicep could flex to its full, 
unimaginable peak. We wouldn’t move her to them until the cement was 
completely dry. Eventually we would feed her, but a day or so without 
food wouldn’t do much harm. Then we’d keep her semi-conscious and feed 
her for a few days before bringing her to town. 

Why did I prolong this? Had I learned nothing from the stupendous events 
of that night? Yes, I had learned that Rena’s strength was beyond 
comprehension and that keeping her at my home any longer was quite 
insane. But I had become completely obsessed by the memory of the feel 
of those mighty arms and the sight of her bursting from from bondage. 
Over the next day or so, as I waited for the cement to dry, I reviewed 
the video of our encounter at least a dozen times. I had had several 
cameras installed and some provided clear, close views of various muscle 
groups. Each new viewing brought an immediate return of my arousal, yet 
repeated orgasms brought no relief of my obsession: I needed to cup 
those fully-engorged muscles, to know the full measure of her impossible 
huge, peaked arms. I was, of course, doomed.