commissions

Kidnapped

TW: kidnapping, intense impact play, dubious consent, forced orgasm.

The woman, naked except for the blindfold, carefully pulled her fists out of the handcuffs. They'd been left loose, suspiciously loose, as if her captor had wanted her to wriggle out of them. He'd kept her so tightly bound on the long, dark journey from where he'd kidnapped her.

Lifting her hands, she undid the blindfold and let it drop to the floor.

She could see the room around her, though it was dim. The door, in front of her, which she tried: locked from the outside. Two big book shelves in either side. The bed in a corner behind her, a fairly large mattress with a sturdy looking frame. And, across from the bed, in the wall to her left, a closet. No windows. One lightbulb, hanging bare from the ceiling.

No way out.

Sighing, she steps forward to test the door again, but as she wraps her hand around the doorknob, she hears footsteps.

The footsteps draw closer, louder- she looks around. There's nowhere to hide- except-

She rushes to the closet and dives beneath the bottom shelf, desperately hoping her captor won't find her if she's wedged against the floor.

There's the sound of an opening door, a shutting door, and a pair of boots traipsing in.

"Are you... Behind the bookshelves?"

A low, throaty hum as she hears him push the bookshelves away from the wall. Her heart pounds, a full thud in her ears. The doorframe blocks most of her view, but she can see his boots as he walks toward the bed and kneels down.

"Are you under the bed?"

Barely restraining a whimper, she tries as quietly as she can to curl in even more on herself.

"Ah, so you're in the closet then."

His boots clomp closer and closer to her, stopping right in front of her face. The deep, reverberating voice starts again.

"Not on the top shelf," he says, "not on the middle shelves. So you must be-"

He reaches down and grabs her by the arm, dragging her out from her hiding place and out into the room.

"You hid from me," he says, a slow, sadistic smile spreading across his face. "Why?"

"I'm- I'm scared."

His eyebrows lift. "Of me? I can't imagine why."

A shove to her chest sends her falling backwards onto the hard floor. He follows the shove with a series of sharp kicks, none quite heavy enough to break or bruise the ribs they're aimed at, but enough to hurt.

"Please!" She cries out, rolling away.

He bends down and grabs her ankles with one hand, undoing his belt with the other. She yells, but he's stronger, and pulls her back, landing a solid thwack of the belt across her ass. More follow, until her behind is flushed darkly, and striped with pale lines.

Reaching down, one foot planted on her back to keep her still, he smacks either side of her ass.

"Looks like that'll bruise, huh?"

The lady on the ground gives a high, muffled whine, facedown in a puddle of tears and spit. He takes his steadying foot off of her, grabs her hips and pulls her up, up onto all fours, grabbing and squeezing a handful of tit.

"You're horny, aren't you?" He says, pressing his thigh between her legs.

She feels him, his hardness pressing against one of the bruises on her ass, and whimpers in response.

"You are horny," he croons, pressing himself even harder against him.

"Please," she whispers again. Three harsh slaps of the belt against her back silence her.

"Don't speak again unless it's answering my questions. Do you like this?"

She whimpers quietly, and flinches at the sound of a zipper. Already naked, he doesn't hesitate to shove himself into her, groaning with pleasure as he begins thrusting messily, harshly, into her.

"You're so wet, for someone who's trying to escape."

He angles himself differently, pressing her against the floor, and him deeper into her. She feels herself tense around him, and the way her body gives with each thrust.

"You like this," he says again, and she starts to believe it, eyes rolling back as she bounces herself back against him.

"Please," she whispers again, but she's unsure, now, what she's begging for.

Taking a handful of her ass, the captor starts going harder, deeper, rougher, grinding her hips back into him. "You-"

"YES!" She cries out, tears in her eyes, "YES, I LIKE IT. PLEASE."

He reaches forward and slaps her tear stained face, hard, and then laughs. "I know you do. I can feel it. You're-" he flexes his hips against her, making her whine as he fills her completely. "About to cum, you whore. Aren't you?"

"No," she whines, "I'm not!"

He grabs his belt and hits her with it across the back a few times. "Don't lie, whore."

"I'm not gonna cum," she whines, as her body begins to spasm, "I'm not- I'm not- I-" she cries, screaming out as she comes undone around him. He twists her around to face him, so he can look her in her blushing, slack-jawed face. She closed her eyes, and tries to cover her face. But he grabs her hands and holds her still, drilling into her.

"Looks like it, huh?"

She whimpers.

A smile grows on his face, and as she begins to breathe heavily, overstimulated as he pushes her through climax after climax, he feels himself getting close to his own orgasm.

"Please," she says with a throaty whisper, "it's too much. Please."

He opens his mouth to say something snarky and cruel, but all that comes out is a deep, primal growl, and he begins thrusting more erratically, crossing the edge.

Sweaty and panting, he falls on top of his sub, taking her in his arms as he pulls out.

"Good girl," he says, smoothing her hair. "Thank you. Did you enjoy it?"

Her voice is still high, and her face is still stained with tears, but she nods against his chest. "Yes, daddy, thank you."

"Bath?"

"Please."