As I have mentioned, I have had abduction fantasies as long as I can remember. Early on there was nothing sexual about it. I would be overwhelmed by a group of girls. They'd beat me and compel me to do their will.
Later, as I discovered sexuality, there would be one girl, maybe she'd have an accomplice. She'd drug my drink, or inject me with a sedative then mock me and laugh as I realized there was something wrong, but it was too late to escape. I'd wake to find myself naked, gagged, bound hand and foot and blindfolded.
Back in the 80's, I read a work of fiction. I presume it was fiction because it was in a trashy magazine, generally poorly written, fraught with grammatical errors. I only recently had the thought that perhaps the author was making errors purposefully to torture the grammar gremlins in the crowd. (Diabolical witch!)
So, back to the story. Two women living together, about the age of thirty. The Alpha is a college professor, Doctorate in psychology. Her partner in crime is an OR nurse. (I've always had a thing for nurses.) Doctor J conjures the notion to abduct a young man, hold him captive and see what they might subject him to. Dr. J owns the home. It is large with a full basement. They construct a dungeon therein in anticipation of the arrival of their guest.
They covertly observe and screen a few dozen twenty something year old candidates and pick one who they adjure will not be immediately missed as he has no close living relatives. Nurse D seduces him. At the end of the school year as summer break begins, she invites him to come and live with her. He does.
Shortly thereafter and at the start of a weekend, nurse D puts some sedatives into the young man's wine. While he's asleep, they slip him quietly into the underground portion of their home.
Early the next morning he has an abrupt awakening at the hands of Doctor J. He finds himself in chains, completely at her mercy. He belongs to her now. Property to do with as she will.
They suspend him from the ceiling by his wrists. Ankles attached to a spreader bar, toes barely touching the floor. Doctor J. whips him past the point of his begging for her to stop.
When she's finished, she lowers the hoist and asks him if he would like to kiss her feet? He tries but because of the bar and attachments isnt able to bend over sufficiently to reach them. His position gives her a different idea. "That's OK, you can kiss my ass instead." She bends forward offering him access. He balks. She administers additional lashes and offers her posterior to him again. He bends to his task. "I made him keep his tongue in my ass until my back got tired from bending over."
Back in the 80's, I read a work of fiction. I presume it was fiction because it was in a trashy magazine, generally poorly written, fraught with grammatical errors. I only recently had the thought that perhaps the author was making errors purposefully to torture the grammar gremlins in the crowd. (Diabolical witch!)
So, back to the story. Two women living together, about the age of thirty. The Alpha is a college professor, Doctorate in psychology. Her partner in crime is an OR nurse. (I've always had a thing for nurses.) Doctor J conjures the notion to abduct a young man, hold him captive and see what they might subject him to. Dr. J owns the home. It is large with a full basement. They construct a dungeon therein in anticipation of the arrival of their guest.
They covertly observe and screen a few dozen twenty something year old candidates and pick one who they adjure will not be immediately missed as he has no close living relatives. Nurse D seduces him. At the end of the school year as summer break begins, she invites him to come and live with her. He does.
Shortly thereafter and at the start of a weekend, nurse D puts some sedatives into the young man's wine. While he's asleep, they slip him quietly into the underground portion of their home.
Early the next morning he has an abrupt awakening at the hands of Doctor J. He finds himself in chains, completely at her mercy. He belongs to her now. Property to do with as she will.
They suspend him from the ceiling by his wrists. Ankles attached to a spreader bar, toes barely touching the floor. Doctor J. whips him past the point of his begging for her to stop.
When she's finished, she lowers the hoist and asks him if he would like to kiss her feet? He tries but because of the bar and attachments isnt able to bend over sufficiently to reach them. His position gives her a different idea. "That's OK, you can kiss my ass instead." She bends forward offering him access. He balks. She administers additional lashes and offers her posterior to him again. He bends to his task. "I made him keep his tongue in my ass until my back got tired from bending over."
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