Captivated!

As soon as my Writer had left me, panic struck. I was walking down the street, in a part of the city that obviously wasn’t the best, conducted on my waist by a man I hadn’t met before but who had already explored my wet pussy, apparently to his house for a sexual encounter. This wasn’t me! I had always been so careful, saving myself for the One Guy I would someday meet… and besides, I was supposed to pick up my sister’s kids and get them dinner! I tried to wriggle myself out of his grip, trying, “I’m sorry… this is a mistake.. I must go…”

But he was way to strong for me, he didn’t reply but just smiled at me and augmented his grip around my waist, then directed me into the vestibule of one of the apartment buildings. Trying to distract him, I asked, “What is your name, anyway?”

He glanced at me, then just shrugged his shoulders, “Why would you need to know? It isn’t like we’ll be friends or anything…”

Not distracted at all, he led me through the vestibule. He didn’t push me towards the elevators, but to a service door at the back. There were stairs behind it, leading to the basement of the building, where residents had a storage cellar. A long corridor of bare brick, with interspersed doors only differing by the ascending numbers on them. He stopped at number 415 and produced a key to unlock it, then pushed me into the pitch dark space behind it and locked the door again behind us. I wanted to scream, protest, but I was too startled to resist his self-assured actions and just gave in to his pressure.

A light switch flipped, flooding the room in a cold, sharp light. I gasped. A woman was chained to the wall right in front. She was naked, and cuffs on her wrists and ankles spread her limbs out in four different directions, as her body formed an X-shaped cross against the wall. Her hair hung down in long, dirty strains, her skin glistened of sweat, and her face had an exhausted expression when she registered my presence as well.

“Meet my wife,” the man simply said, before releasing my waist and stepping up to untie her. This was all one step too much, and I rushed for the door to attempt an escape. I raced to the door and wrenched the handle in a vain attempt to break away; the door was solid and didn’t move an inch. He didn’t even bother looking at me when I was trying, as he released his wife from her awkward position on the wall. She sank to her knees, crept up to his loins, and unzipped his pants, producing his half-erect cock, and gobbled it up as soon as it broke free of his pants, starting an ardent blow job. He ignored her mostly, just smiling vaguely as he watched my fight with the door.

Her back is turned to me now, and I notice with a shock that there are numerous welts on her back and ass.

They’re whip marks. But… how do I know that? I have never seen them before!

My Writer has picked me up again… unpredictable and suddenly like he always does. I’m vehemently wrenching at the unimpressed door, trying to get out of this disgusting and dangerous situation, panicking, stuffed with adrenaline, ready to run, to call the police, to do anything to get out of here. All of that continues, but there is suddenly a deeper layer to it… as if I am playing a part, as if I’m just putting on a show. An unseen hand has grabbed my pussy… and the sun is breaking over the meadow again. Nothing changes, yet everything is different.

I have had nightmares about being captured, just like this, and kept in chains in a dungeon where frightful men did horrendous things to me… but were they really nightmares? Then why did I always wake up with a wet pussy, and an uncontrollable urge to masturbate immediately?

You already grabbed me back then, didn’t you? It is all part of your big plan!

As the futility of my fervent action becomes apparent, I give it up and lean with my back against the door, watching this woman give her husband a blow job. She’s really getting started by now, her head is thrusting frenetically at his cock, alternating between taking it deep in her throat and letting it go until only the tip is between her lips. Yet the man seems completely unmoved, he’s just standing there, watching me, with that hideous smile glued to his face, as his wife attempts to blow his dick to pieces.

Suddenly he grabs a full hand of her hair and pulls her head away and to the side. The full splendour of his erect penis emerges. It is huge, and thick, and red, and throbbing, and aimed straight at me, just three meters away from me.

“Want to get your taste as well?" he just says.

All my social values and character and upbringing raise their hair in rebellion. Who does this guy think he is? He must be crazy… does he really expect me to drop to my knees and take over the blowjob from his wife?!?

I suppose the answer to that is “yes”, right?

Indeed, it is.