What a migraine! Where am I? I don't remember anything to explain who did this. I was out on a morning run, and suddenly I woke up here. Who did this to me? Why did they do it? How did they capture me? What is this? What is this?! I hear a strange hum somewhere nearby.
I open my eye to see that I am in a room with blue industrial carpet tiles. The walls have panels in alternating white and blue. The ceiling is white drop tiles, the kind that crumble to bits when you touch them. It's a small room. The tiles are about 1 foot each and make a 9x9 square. The wall panels are about half that size, and the ceiling tiles are the same size. There are four lights in the room; each one is the third square on the diagonal from the corner.
Perfect symmetry, no door. On one wall, there are 2 floor to ceiling mirrors. No light switches or wall outlets are to be seen. Yet, here I am. Perhaps I have gone insane and am caught up in a strange delusion? There's a hair in my face; let's brush that out of the way. I can't move my arm to do it. What is happening? Am I paralyzed by some strange drugs? I try to ask for help, but I cannot speak and instead taste something horrible. Maybe that's the drug at work? It smells too awful to describe. Then I look at myself in the mirrors.
I am bound and gagged, and I am bound very well. A mountain of rope has been used to tie me in an extremely tight and strict hogtie. The rope constricts my arms going up, tying my wrists and either side of my elbows. Three ropes tie my thighs, and another three tie my legs. My big toes have been tied together with a thick brown string. Rope tied my wrists and ankles together, and twine ties my braid to my toes. My poor blonde locks! What pain!
I am still in my outfit, which was bright blue spandex running shorts, a black V-neck t-shirt, and a bright blue paisley bandana I was wearing as a kerchief. My socks and sneakers are missing. I am gagged with my socks; duct tape is crushing my face, and more duct tape is holding my shoe against my face. How disgusting! Blech!
Someone is a sick son of a gun.
Maybe that's why my shirt and sports bra were ripped up to expose my breasts. An intricate rope harness keeps the shirt up and pushes my breasts out from my chest. Another rope not only ties my arms tightly against my body but also has an intricate working into my crotch. It's merciless work by a merciless individual. There is pain involved, too, and I involuntarily groan.
My poor nipples are crushed by black binder clips that my captor only padded by wrapping them in electrical tape. Against my crotch and taped to my leg is a massager. It buzzes at my crotch to force painful orgasms out of me. Someone wasn’t nice and really wanted me to suffer.
“Mmmmmmmmmm!†every 173 seconds almost on the dot, it seems, I groan like that.
I have to get out of this somehow, but how? Any moment, I can just picture it, some creepy dude is going to open up some secret panel, come in here, and hump me until I’m senseless. That was an awful thought, but this bondage was horrible, tight, and effective. Is it even worth the effort if there really is a waiting monster, hoping I will try, so it can come out and mock me?
Step 1: get out of this hair tie. I’m doing great at stating the obvious, and I’d like to kick the sick son-of-a-gun in the nuts. I’m going to assume it’s a guy because a girl wouldn’t have ripped my shirt like that. She’d have rolled it up or taken it off completely before starting to tie me up. I’ve got one clue so far, but it’s not a very helpful one.
I try to slowly pick at the knots. This is so difficult to escape because of that hair tie. It’s painful and strong and unforgiving. A squirm reveals something else horrible: clothed or not, there is a big dildo inside me, just long enough to push my G spot. No wonder I’m orgasming so quickly.
“Mmmmmmmm!†I guess that means 173 seconds have gone by.
Someone’s a real a-shole to do this to me. Why did they do it? Which will be? Appear through a secret panel and assault my a-s? Snuff? Poison gas? Drowning? I can imagine lots of things that could follow, and none of them exactly encourage me in the least. All that is certain right now is that I am in pain.
This f-cking hair tie hurts so badly. My cousin said I’d look so much cuter if I tried wearing my hair in a braid like she does. She’s a moron or a genius because I think this would hurt more if I had my hair down like normal. OOF! That hurts like the dickens though. God damned string is not giving any leeway.
Someone let this maniac know I’m already engaged to get married to a handsome young man.
“MMMMMMMM!†gosh that rhythmic orgasm hurts like hell.
Which is the worst? The phallus, the hogtie, the hair tie, or the elbow tie? All are pretty awful to tell you the truth, and I’m not fond of any of the three. I’m a kinky girl, but bondage isn’t a kink I enjoy, unlike some of my friends or my cousin. I’m just a poor girl with a foot fetish, but when you’re forced to each your own socks it’s not exactly checking off the box for a foot fetish.
I look in the mirror at my bound and gagged self. I survived prison and familial abuse including once being chained to my bed and being locked in a closet for 12 hours. I can survive this if I’m strong and pour my soul into it. Unless, of course, I get caught by my kidnapper and either tied back up to the same or worse condition or am killed. Hmmm, I don’t feel like dying today. I’m not this kind of buzzkill at parties, I assure you.
I have to get out of this somehow, but I’m in a closed room with only three mirrors and lacking both doors and windows. It’s crazy to think this is even really happening to me. My body aches from the intensity of this bondage, and the buzzer against my crotch is resonating the phallus in my body so badly. Somebody is trying to give me a taste of what’s to come, I think.
“MMMMMMMM!†every 173 seconds! Lord, seriously, why did You make me this way?
I finally find the twine knotted by my hair. Someone was an enthusiast but an amateur; shoelace knots are not going to keep me tied up. With a little pulling, I finally find some relief, and what a relief it is for my poor head! Man, that hurt so badly! In a more consensual situation, that one would be the best part of it, but under these conditions it’s absolute misery.
On the other hand, the hogtie is cinched the entire distance, but the knots must be close because it is an ankles-to-wrists hogtie. Ankles-to-wrists can usually be escaped with some patience, but it is hard to concentrate with a permanently erect manhood jammed in your body while it’s being constantly vibrated as well. It’s the feeling of a guy ejaculating nonstop for an hour. My socks get more arousing with time despite the overall disgust I have for the situation.
There’s the next knot. This probable r-pist will hopefully arrive to find an empty room. I have to get this hogtie undone before I can stand up and start looking for a door. At least if I can hop out of here, I can…
“MMMMMMMM!†If I get out of this, I swear I’ll confess eating my roommate’s Kitkat bar.
Where was I? That’s right! I was trying to find the hogtie knot. Yes, there it is. Amateur tied it in the cinching instead of above my wrists or behind my feet. This guy’s a real chump for sure to let me do that. It takes a little bit of effort, but I get it out. Not too soon either because my socks are becoming one hell of a stew in there. If I were home with hubby, despite my distaste for this, I’d be gladly suffering for his amusement, but he’s not my hubby nor am I even married! There’s a lot to be said about my kidnapper’s sadistic side for sure.
At least I can sit up and see the room from a normal perspective. Surely one of these panels can be opened, whether the wooden panels or the mirrors. I guess things could be crazy, and the way to get in is through the floor or ceiling even. Regardless, there must be a way in and out of here.
“MMMMMMMM!†OK! OK! Yes, Lord, I ate her Crunch bar as well!
Now I can finally stand up. Hopping usually helps loosen ropes, even nasty ones like this. What I don’t understand is why anyone would do this to me. That’s not a knock on my looks, but there are few guys who will look at a girl who is 5 feet and a generous 0 inches and think she’s a hottie that he wants to kidnap and molest. Maybe he has a hobbit fetish.
Let’s check this out. Man, these ropes are rough and tight. I have to get out of them somehow if I am to see the light of day again. Then again, maybe my kidnapper is nice and will take me to a nice city park, untie me, and let me prance in a flower bed before he wrecks me. Then, while it’s all sunshine and roses, I take off like a bat out of hell while screaming for someone to help me.
“MMMMMMMM!†I’m sorry for that time I forced my cousin to worship my feet!
That orgasm is so strong, I collapse and hit the floor while breathing more heavily than an out of shape person who just ran a 5K. My cousin runs half-marathons, and I’ve run 5K’s, so I can talk the talk on this one. It would have been a wonderful experience if this wasn’t happening because some random psychopath kidnapped me.
These ropes are so freaking tight that it’s unbelievable. My arms are absolutely crushed, and my tits are really pushed out by the ropes. There is something empowering about flaunting my own tits, but it’s entirely different when somebody has pulled them out for their sociopathic thrill.
“Mmmm mmm mmmmmm!†And my roommates too! Just let me get out of here unharmed!
This is an interesting room though. Surely something is obviously amiss in it. Blue and black carpet tiles all look the same; the panels and mirrors look identical. The ceiling tiles seem to be regular. There must be an irregularity somewhere! That a-s has to get in here somehow! He didn’t just teleport me into here; that kind of magic isn’t real.
All this time I’ve been here and accomplished nothing except untying two ropes. I’m an expert, aren’t I? Surely I can do a better job of escaping than this. I’m getting absolutely nowhere fast, and I’m trying my best. There are so many ropes, and worst of all is that one in my shorts that is pushing that phallus deep into my body. That hole is my future husband to us. It’s not for phalli nor for demented prison guards either. I couldn’t stop the prison guard, though, from putting his own crap in there nor could I stop his cronies from putting his fingers in there. At least they left me alone after I pretended to be aroused by their disgusting violations of my innocence.
“Mmmm!†I’m like a freaking egg timer.
“OWWWWWW!†I am not getting those binder clips off either.
I have worked up both an appetite and a sweat. The former is not satisfied by the socks despite what my kidnapper believes, and the latter will not be satisfied by either anal or vaginal sex even if I know he’s thinking it. I’m not that easy, sir. After this, you could take me out to a 5 star joint and still have me kick you right in the groin after. I can kick your groin even while wearing high heels from so much experience wearing them for a variety of reasons I won’t tell him.
I’ll wear heels with pants if I think that’ll grab my boyfriend’s eyes. I like wearing them so they smell terrible and then forcing my roommates to sniff… there I go again! Sorry! I’m really into the feet, though, and I’m trying to comfort myself in the face of possible death. Lord, I’m such an addict when it comes to the feet, and I don’t know why! My friends all like bondage, and I’m a foot fetish girl. So why am I the one who got kidnapped?
“Mmmmmmmm!†down to the ground I go, right on cue.
Something better happens though. I feel a rope loosening up; it’s one of my elbow ropes. That’s a wonderful thing! It’s a big start towards getting out of this, especially since it’s the upper rope that loosened. Now, I can start wiggling some more to try to get these other two to fall down as well. Just because I have the harness and crotch rope doesn’t mean I can’t struggle.
The most determined girls usually escape, and this is going to be no exception. I can feel it. The ropes are slowly surrendering to my stubborn will. I just need to keep at it. About time that I am able to benefit from my spunky spirit. Woo! I’m going to be out of here soon, and wait until my kidnapper comes in here looking for a piece of my a-s and finds that I have escaped. I need to be in more control; show restraint; not get ahead of myself. It's hard to restrain my excitement.
“MMMMMMMM!†I won’t miss this permanently erect penis though.
Finally! My arms are free. Now I can sit down and untie my legs. Yes, I need to get that rope off. Take off the first crotch rope, then drop my shorts and panties, and finally, at long last, pull the phallus out of my body. The real deal is worse when it's nonconsensual. I take the dildo and throw it at one of the mirrors, and the glass shatters all over the place to reveal an exit! Yes, that dildo was absolutely covered in my juices, since I know you're wondering about that.
I take off the vibrator and untie my legs slowly but surely. My toes are freed. Then I remove the harness. Finally, I can unwrap the tape and spit out my socks. I don't want the socks anymore as I now associate them with a bad experience. Kidnapping does that to you, just like the horrors of prison inspired me to be a ruthless cop killer on my friend's Grand Theft Auto games. The gag is the worst part for sure, but I’m free either way!
I gather myself up and head towards my new exit and slowly step out. Sure enough this was the door, which is only visible from the outside. Seeing the roadway nearby I start to run. I have to get away from here before I am caught. To my luck, a friend is going by and recognizes me, and I am soon on my way to safety…
THE END
| Featuring | As |
|---|---|
| Kendra Kristensen | The kidnapped girl |
This wasn't my only solo film. The studio, Nabber Cellar, produced this film, but it would be my best friend, Mary-Ann, who really brought these to life for me as these were my favorite to film from a bondage perspective. I liked the focus on the imprisonment and the gag. Once I was engaged, I wouldn't let dildos and stuff be used on me anymore, and I have no regrets about that choice.
Those thoughts I had about life, my roommates, and my friends? Real. Sorry about your Crunch bar, Ashley, but it was really delicious.
See ya!
