Hostage Situation

The ski mask keeps riding up my chin and rubbing against my lip. I check the time on my phone again, and stomp one foot impatiently. So bored. I roll my wrist from side to side and watch the edge of the knife flash in the dim light. I swallow hard. He should have been home by now, and I resist the urge to text him and ask what is taking so long. Waiting is the hardest part, sometimes.

Finally, the dead bolt on the door spins and the handle revolves. The door opens and I can see him through the slats of the closet. He’s coming inside, a bag of groceries balanced in one arm and his keys in his other hand. Hopefully he doesn’t think what I’m doing is a real attack and lose his shit. He locks the door behind him and walks past the closet, oblivious. I open the door quietly, and step up behind him, grabbing his head with one hand and mashing the knife against his skin with the other. It’s a butter knife and I’d have a better chance of bludgeoning him to death with it than sawing through his jugular vein, but he doesn’t know that. Probably suspects, but doesn’t know.

I let him feel the cold metal against his skin. “Don’t say a word and don’t fucking move.” I hiss in his ear, and feel his muscles tense then relax when he hears my voice. Excellent. “Down on your knees, slowly.”

He sinks to one knee, then carefully moves his leg back so the other knee is pressed against the floor. I steady him, holding his body against my own and directing it downward while he shuffles his legs back and forth. “Set the bag down. Slowly.” I stay tight against him as he sets the groceries to one side, enjoying the feel of his muscles moving under his clothes and skin. “Hands behind your back.” I kneel down with him, holding the knife against his throat as he moves his arms and places his hands in the small of his back. With my free hand I pull cuffs out of a pants pocket and flip them open, cinching them down over one wrist then the other. The metal is hard and punishing and I love the little sounds the chain between the bracelets makes.

He can’t see my grin as I give him a shove between the shoulder blades. He hits the floor with a dull thud and an “Ooomph” of breath and I lick my lips. No more waiting, things are about to get interesting for both of us. I drop the knife well to one side and sit on his legs. I can feel the grin on my face as I pull a zip tie out of my back pocket. I run it under and around his feet and pull the end through the clasp. A couple of hard jerks and it cinches down, binding his feet together.

I stand and nudge him with my foot, making sure I have his full attention. “We took your pretty little wife. If you want her back in one piece, you’ll do as we say. Make any trouble, fail to satisfy our demands, and my associates will torture her… even more.”

He nods once, a quick jerk of his head.

“Good boy. Crawl into the living room, and we’ll get started.” I punctuate my words with a quick kick to his thigh, hard enough he notices it, and start pushing him further into the house. With his hands behind him and his ankles bound he has to kind of shove himself along the floor, pushing his body along the carpet with his legs. I march slowly behind him, enjoying the view, not in any hurry but still using the occasional kick to encourage him to move faster.

“Stop.” I walk past him when he reaches the center of the room, and pick up a laptop. It hims to life and I enter the password, then set it on the floor in front of him. I open a video file, and start it playing. I watch his face, knowing he sees a close up of a knife sliding through the skirt I was wearing this morning. The hand is wearing a black leather glove, just so he can’t be absolutely sure I’m doing it myself. I can see him frown, and feel a rush at his doubt and uncertainty. He’s still not sure just how far I’ll go, if there might not be a third person involved somehow, and I love that he still wants to play with me despite that doubt.

On the screen the skirt falls away, and I jump a little when the knife starts to cut away my panties. They fall in two pieces, and the hand pulls them away. My pussy is on the screen, and I can feel him staring at it. The audio from the video kicks out a single, pleading “No” and then stops, freezing on the last frame. My leg is half blocking the view of my pussy. He’s still staring at it, intent, and breathing a little harder.

I walk around him, stomping in my big ugly combat boots. “Figured it out yet? Whatever we did to her, we’re going to do to you too. If you want to stop, just say so, but the show ends. If you want to see what happens to her next, we’ll keep going.”
He licks his lips again, his eyes still frozen on the image on the screen. “Yes. I understand.”

“Good.” I yank his shoes off and throw them in the corner. Time to start stripping him down, too many clothes make it hard to get to all his sensitive nerves and skin, and the cloth will be in the way whether I want to give him pain or pleasure. His socks follow his shoes, and I pull a knife out of my pocket, one with a real blade this time. I start sawing through his jeans, cutting along the seam to make it easier and making sure I don’t cut the zip tie around his ankles. I let him feel the dull edge of the blade rubbing against his skin as I start to take away his clothes.

I take my time, enjoying this part. It’s slow and sweet and ritualistic, and it feels physical and spiritual. I can feel my control over his body and mind. It’s almost too soon, but his pants fall apart and he’s lying there in his underwear. I pull his underwear away from his body and let it snap back down. He twitches a little, but he’s still staring at the screen and being careful to lay very, very still. I pull the underwear away again and start cutting. His shredded boxers are like a little flag of surrender as I pull them away from his body.

“Are you ready to see what happens next?”

“Yes, please.” It’s a cute little whimpering sound he makes when he says this, and I’d think he did it on purpose if he didn’t get so embarrassed every time I mention it to him. I reach over his prone, half-naked body to play the next video, and go back to the closet to get my duffel bag. There are a few things in there I’m going to need.

I can hear my moans coming from the monitor, and know he’s watching me get fucked with a dildo. He would see me teasing my clit, running it up and down my slit, and then slowly working it inside myself. Pushing it in further a little each time, sawing it in and out. He’s probably flexing his fingers in the cuffs, lying very still, and I know all that is in his mind is what’s on that monitor, not what’s going to happen to him next. I had given him a treat, now it was time for him to pay for his pleasure.

I get back and strap on the harness, then start to lube the cock hanging lewdly in front of me. It doesn’t take long, and I lay down on top of him as the video plays, feeling wonderfully androgynous. The black clothing covers me from head to toe, and the ski mask only leaves my mouth and eyes visible. I feel like I’m nothing but the big nasty cock hanging in front of me, and it feels wonderful. Now I need to shove it inside of him, feel the control that comes from that kind of violation, feel it slip inside him inch by inch and know it’s mental surrender as much as physical.

Lying on top of him, I let him feel the hard plastic between us, pressing into his back. “Your turn, unless you want to stop.”

He shakes his head, “No, I don’t want to stop, I want to see what happens next.”

“Say it then.”

I can feel him tremble underneath me, and know it is so much harder when he has to ask for it than when I just take it. Little jolts of pleasure wash over me with each word he speaks.

“Please fuck me like you fucked my wife.”

I smile and my eyebrows bounce under the mask. He was getting more into it than I thought he would.

“Again, and with more details, or I’ll just go fuck her again.”

“Please, fuck me with your hard cock like you fucked my wife, please shove it in my ass ma’am.”

I shove myself up and position the tip at his asshole, and start to push forward with my hips. His upper body trembles and I keep pushing, sliding it in further. He moans and whimpers and I pause, waiting for him to take a deep breath then I force it out of his body with a shove. He actually yips then, a sound of surprise and pain. I slow down, and put my hands on his back letting him feel my skin. “It’s halfway in. You’ll take it all.”

He just nods, and I back out a little then push in again. I can tell he’s focusing on his breathing, keeping it deep and regular, trying to breathe through the pain and discomfort. I was still gasping and moaning on the screen, the dildo sliding in and out of me. I wanted to be that dildo, doing it to him, and I slide in a little further, then start rocking my hips back and forth. He whimpers but keeps still, letting me invade his body. His hands clench into fists and release, and I can see him pulling against the handcuffs, trying to force physical sensation into his body to distract himself.

I start fucking him faster, moving my hips back and forth, reveling in the feeling of control and violation. Of doing something to someone else’s body, of forcing my way inside, of violating their most sacred possession. And of having someone who accepts this, and loves me afterwards, and takes a shower with me and kisses me and thanks me. Of someone who gives me their body and their mind. I fuck him harder, really slamming into him now, knowing the video is almost at the end. On the screen I’m slamming the dildo into my pussy with one last violent thrust, just as I drive the cock inside him with all my weight. I hold it there, on the screen and inside of him, letting it stretch and hold open both our holes. Then I slowly, ever so slowly, pull it out.

I’m breathing hard, and I pull the ski mask halfway up to get more air. I sit down and lean against the wall, and can see him lying there with his eyes closed, tiny trails from tears on his cheek. My eyes roll back into my head then, and I felt the most wonderful rush of pleasure. All through my body, there was the deep satisfaction of a hunger sated. Temporarily.

Soon I pull the mask back down, and take the strapon off. I nudge him with one boot and he jumps into wakefulness. “Well, do you want some more?”

He nods quickly, and I’m not surprised. The anal fucking doesn’t do much for him in and of itself, it usually just drives him to a calmer mental place where he can surrender and work up to the things he actually enjoys. Like pain.

I reach over his body and started the next video.

I frown down at the screen, the footage was pretty awful. I had to shoot three different angles and edit them together, but I still saw him reflexively wince as the nipple clamps snapped on. I pull him up by his hair, and move the screen closer with my other hand. “It gets better.” My voice sounds like a snarl in my own ears, and my jaw twitches as I remember the nipple clamps.

The scene jumps to a riding crop slapping my ass. The angle was awkward, but he got the idea. Then I was in profile, licking a boot. The same beat up combat boot I was wearing now. I hear his breathing get faster, and pull the nipple clamps out of the bag. “On your side, roll the fuck over.” I bark the words, eager and hungry. I pull his shirt up and snap them on, then let his shirt fall down and shoved him back on his stomach. I squat in front of him, and start to lightly tap his ass with the riding crop.

“Do you want to lick my boots?”

“Yes please.” He was so sincere I almost let him get away with it right there.

“You’ll have to earn it. Just remember, we can stop whenever you want.”

“Yes ma’am, please crop my ass until I’ve earned the right to lick your boots.” What can I say? I’m a sucker for politeness. I skip the rest of the warmup and started hitting him for real. It’s a sharp, stinging pain, the kind your body reflexively jumps at. Which must have made the nipple clamps he was laying on twist and pull and generally hurt like a son of a bitch. I know he’s watching the monitor through my legs, and wonder if it’s showing my own tits with the clamps on them, the crop bouncing off my ass, or my face licking the boots.

I hit him harder, wanting him to really feel it. He moans and thrashes a little, and his legs reflexively start to curl at the knee. I keep hitting him, feeling the vibrations thudding up my arm and down into my cunt. I want him to suffer for it, to really feel the pain for the next few days. His ass turns red, and I start swatting at the same spots over and over, trying to make the drops of lube still on his skin bounce. Finally, when his moans are coming from somewhere deep in his soul, I let him have some pleasure.

“You may lick my boots now.”

He pushes himself forward with his legs, eagerly running his tongue across the cracked and worn leather. My thighs burn from crouching, but I’m willing to stop yet. I shift my weight from one leg to the other, and keep slapping his ass with the crop. Looking down at him licking my boots I know the exact look on his face: it is one of utter bliss, of not caring what’s happening anywhere else in the world.

I hear the video end behind us, and just keep working on his ass. He keeps licking, moving from one boot to another, letting out little gasps when the nipple clamps pull and tear at his body. He must have really torqued one, because he lets out a sharp bleat of pain and hisses through his teeth. I can’t take it anymore, that sound pushes me over the edge. I let myself fall to my side, and pull my pants and panties down to my knees, all at once. I grab his head, and pull his face up to my cunt.

“Eat my pussy! Eat my fucking pussy!”

I smash his face into my crotch and feel his tongue going to work. My God it’s delicious. I lay back, and let his tongue please me and his lips tease me. He works his tongue in circles here, flicks it there. I hold on to his head with my hands, letting the pleasure consume both of us. It’s a quick buildup and a sudden explosion, and my legs start thrashing awkwardly under his weight while I gasp and moan. I jerk the mask off, and the air feels cool and wonderful on my face. I shove him off of me, and scoot down to lay beside him. He’s on his side, slightly curled, his hands are still behind his back and his ankles are still tied together.

He’s breathing slowly and regularly, and I can see his eyes twitching under the closed lids. The screensaver on the computer bounces a fractal from one corner to another. I sit up, and work the safety release on one of the cuffs so he can hold me, then flop back down. He wraps his arms around me, and we sigh and purr together. I kiss him once, on the lips, and lightly punch his arm. “I thought you were never going to get home, you big jerk.”

His head rolls back, and he winces as he moans. “Oh, shit.”

He opens his eyes and smiles at me. “I stopped and bought ice cream. It’s in the bag.”
I have to laugh. He’s a sweet, adorable man who took a dildo in his ass, one hell of a beating, licked my boots with vicious clamps on his nipples, and still bought me ice cream. “I’ll put it in the freezer if it’s too melted, and we can have it later.” I can feel the reluctance in his arms as he lets me go, and I go to grab the groceries and put them away, and give him a little time. There are four more videos on the laptop, and I want to let him rest for a little while.

But only a little while.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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