A Fantasy Too Far Chapter 2

The next night she returned to her usual jogging time and path. She passed by the place it had happened, both on the way out, and the way back. Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened, it was silly to think that it would. The following night she stopped there and waited for several minutes. Still nothing. The night after that she actually called out, “I’m here!” at the spot, and instantly felt ashamed. What the hell was she doing? She knew better. Her kind of fantasies were things decent men don’t do in real life without planned consent and a safe word. The one time was once too many. Yet she was unable to continue on towards home until she had fingered herself to an orgasm.

She moved on from it all as best she could, and finally started being able to function again without the mix of trauma and desire constantly in her head. She was still too skittish to go back to her porn or her roleplay chats, but her nightly jogs continued without incident. At least, they did for about another week or so. Then, one night as she approached her house, she saw that all the outside lights were dark. They had been on when she’d left. She always turned them on as she set out. She felt her heart beating quickly in her chest, and her pussy making her panties damp. This was a trap. It was an obvious trap. She needed to be smart. She needed to go to her neighbor’s house and have them call the police.

She walked up to the door. No, it was wrong, this was her own door. She should run, right now. She pulled out her key and slid it into the keyhole. Instantly the arms closed around her, one around her arms and breasts, the other holding a rag to her face. She became light-headed. It must have been chloroform or ether or something. In a semi-conscious daze, she was vaguely aware of being dragged, then lifted up and dumped into something. A car trunk.

He pulled her hands behind her back and bound them with what felt like a zip tie. Another went tight around her ankles. She was starting to regain her faculties and struggled against her bonds, of course to no avail. He stuffed something into her mouth, another rag, and secured it there with a strip of tape across her mouth. Of all gag techniques, the one most effective at muffling screams. Finally a blindfold went on, and she heard the trunk lid close. After a few more minutes, the car’s engine started and drove away.

She kicked around the inside of the trunk aimlessly with her tied legs, but couldn’t find the escape latch, if this car even had one. This wasn’t what she wanted. Another rough pounding out on the roadside, then home to bed safe and sound, that was the extent of what her lust had driven her to hope for. Or perhaps a home invasion while she slept, waking up to the intruder taking her by force in her own bed, at the very most. Who knew what he had planned for her now. Online, escaping from a scene that had gone too far was as simple as logging out, but she was way beyond that now. She tried to keep track of the distance, the turns, but couldn’t in the end. Finally the car stopped and shut off. She guessed at the time, she was now in the next town over, at most.

She heard a garage door closing, and the trunk opening. She took that as her cue to resume struggling and screaming, if only in defiance since it didn’t get her anywhere. One by one she felt him secure and lock wide cuffs around each wrist and ankle. He cut the zip ties away, but the cuffs were clipped together, so she didn’t gain any movement. Then a collar wrapped around her neck, also locking into place, thankfully not uncomfortably tight. Scissors went to work, cutting off her jogging clothes and her underwear. Naked and bound, she felt more vulnerable now than she had during the rape. This was bad. And exciting. No, stop thinking like that. This was very bad.

He lifted her out of the trunk and carried her, presumably into his house, and then down a flight of stairs. He eased her down to the floor. She heard the rattle of a chain being secured to her collar. He separated her cuffs, restoring free movement to her limbs. Then at last, the blindfold and the gag were removed. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light. She was in an unfinished basement. The floor was bare concrete, the ceiling was exposed, some framework for walls were in place but with no drywall covering it. There were extra coverings on the bare concrete walls in places, probably concealing window wells. There were only a few bare bulbs on the ceiling joists for light, but some work lights were in place around her to keep that area well lit. She was sitting on a bare twin-size mattress on the floor and was chained to a toilet. At least that was something not being denied her.

He was there too, standing over her, without his mask now. He looked downright average, on the younger side and clean shaven, the quiet unassuming guy next door type, completely unthreatening. But she knew what he’d done, what he was capable of. Some of it, anyway. She was about to find out how much more there was. She looked up at him, fear in her blue eyes, and said, “Please, let me go. I want to go home.”

He slapped her hard enough to knock her down to the mattress. “This is your home now, bitch!” He quickly disrobed, tossing his clothing aside towards the stairs. Now fully naked, with his hard cock swinging free and ready, he got down on the mattress with her. She knew what was coming. No sense in making it easy for him, though.

“No, no don’t, please no!” she begged as he pushed her down on her back, pinning her arms and pushing his cock inside her pussy once more. “Noooooo!” she wailed as he forcefully fucked her. She struggled in his grip while his hard member invaded her wet snatch over and over, deep and hard. Suddenly he flipped her over, pulled her ass up, and pushed her head back down into the mattress. She gasped as he forced her asshole open with his thumb. “Oh no no no not there, please not there!” she begged, and then screamed when she felt his cock pushing into her rear passage. His balls slapped against her cunt as he sodomized her repeatedly while she whimpered and moaned.

When he pulled out of her, he pulled her by the hair up to a kneeling position, and then stood up in front of her. He grabbed a nipple and pinched hard, making her cry out again. Immediately he stuffed his cock into her open mouth. On reflex she started sucking her own ass juice off the invading member, but then she remembered that a blow job during a rape is fraught with hazard. She bit down, not hard enough to cause injury, but enough that it was clearly intentional.

“Bitch!” he shouted, pulling her off of him by her hair. Another slap to the face sent her back down to the mattress. “Time for you to learn some obedience.” He fastened her wrist cuffs to a ring on a rope and pulled her up via an overhead pulley. Then he fastened her ankle cuffs to either end of a spreader bar, forcing her crotch to be fully exposed. He adjusted the rope until she was just a little too high to be standing comfortably and secured it there.

He produced a leather flogger and started lashing her with it. It didn’t hurt as much as an actual whip or a belt might, but it was still plenty effective. He circled around her, using it on her back, her thighs, and her ass, before gravitating more towards hitting her tits and pussy lips. “This is what happens to naughty little cunts!” he scolded as he beat her. She knew that some girls, the so-called pain sluts, got off on this type of thing, some even allegedly had difficulty reaching orgasm without some physical beating. For her, it just plain hurt. She flinched and yelped at every strike. And yet, she could feel her pussy getting damp. It was supposed to be unpleasant, it was punishment, after all. Each blow to her body was another assertion of his power over her. Is that how the pain sluts do it? Does the pleasure come from the pain itself or from the meaning behind it? Maybe even that distinction goes away after a while.

Finally he was satisfied and put the flogger away. He climbed up the stairs, not even letting her down. Even worse, the lights went out, plunging her into darkness. “Hey. Hey!” she called out, but didn’t expect a reply. All she could do was fidget, standing there hung by her wrists, with only the sounds of her breathing and heartbeat as company.

This wasn’t what she’d expected when she let him attack her again. She didn’t want to be held as a slave in his basement, did she? Sure, it was a fetish theme she enjoyed, but what was the boundary between that and actual desire? A sexual fantasy is normally something you wish would happen someday. What do you call one you don’t want? This wasn’t a game like the roadside rape had been. No. Wrong. That hadn’t been a game either. That was a real rape. She had thought she didn’t want that to really happen either, but now she retroactively considered it the biggest sexual thrill of her life.

This new predicament was thrilling too, but she had a life, a job, responsibilities. She didn’t really want to give that up, did she? No matter how horny the thought of it made her. The fantasy of it, like the stories with similar situations, was she projecting it too much on her new surroundings? In the end, did she want both, to keep the normal things in her life, and to have it all taken from her as a captive sex slave? That shouldn’t even be a valid option. How does it make sense to want both? It wasn’t up to her anyway. She was here, at his mercy. And dammit, not having that choice, regardless of whether she could make up her mind, that was turning her on too.

The lights came back on, and he descended the staircase. Whether genuine or just playing her assigned role, she said the expected thing, “Let me go, please. I swear I won’t tell anyone.” That earned her another hard slap to the face.

“Shut up, bitch,” he sneered. Without another word he assembled a rig of poles and rope designed to keep a vibrating dildo stuffed up her pussy and another vibrator pressing against her clit. Once satisfied they were secure, he turned them on, then pulled up a chair and sat down to watch, stroking his cock along to the show.

The first orgasm came quickly. She wanted to withhold the satisfaction from him, but like it or not she was too turned on to last. Her body trembled as a low groan escaped her lips. “That’s right, you slut, you know you want it,” he taunted. The buzz of the two vibrators continued, and quickly built her back up to a second orgasm. The third took longer, but shook through her nonetheless, evoking a louder moan. After she came a fourth and fifth time, her pussy started to feel sore. The excess and nonstop stimulation was now painful, right up to the point where another orgasm ripped through her. After that she lost count. She couldn’t stop herself from whimpering through the pain, and it built into a shriek when she came.

“Please, please, enough, make it stop,” she pleaded. It was another two orgasms before he did, though. After removing the vibrators, he removed the spreader bar and unhooked her wrists. She couldn’t stand, and as her legs gave out beneath her he directed her fall onto the mattress. She looked up at him from down there, and saw him take aim with his cock. A stream of urine came forth, spraying her with his warm golden shower. It made her feel dirty, in the fun way. A dirty little piss slut.

When the pee ran out, he started jacking off. It didn’t take long before he sprayed an enormous load that he’d been building up. The jism fell upon her body, across her tits, one spurt even landing on her face. She gave a short involuntary moan, unable to restrain herself. She hurt all over, was covered in his fluids, and loved every minute of it. “That’s a good girl,” he said, and left, shutting off the lights again behind him.

When he next appeared, he tossed a large dog bowl on the floor and dumped a can of dog food into it. He pointed at it and commanded, “Eat.”

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked. She wasn’t even trying to be defiant this time, she had genuinely been caught off guard. He grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face into the bowl.

“I said, eat, you cunt!” he shouted. He held her head down, and just to clear some space to breathe, she had no choice but to open her mouth and eat. As a point of fact, she was rather hungry. The dog food was high quality stuff, with chunks of genuine meat, almost like a thick stew. It still smelled and tasted horrible, though. When she finished off the dog food, he dragged her back to the mattress, held her down, and fucked her pussy. He had to slap her back down several times as she struggled against him. Finally he shot his cum deep inside, pulled out of her, and left.

It went on like that, he left her waiting in the darkness, then would suddenly appear, rape her, beat her, or both, and then he would vanish back up the stairs. She fought back every time, and every time it didn’t get her anything but more abuse. She wondered how long she could endure it before her will was broken. That was usually the most erotic part of the story, the key moment, the climax, if you will: the point when the girl loses hope, gives up, surrenders, can no longer endure, when she decides that it is easier to let her captor have their way with her body than to be beaten down and forced again, better to obey than to take the punishment. After that, it’s a much shorter mental leap to considering the desires of her captor before her own, to regard pleasing him as her main goal in life, sometimes even to lose sight of her own individuality as her journey to being a true fuck slave reaches its end. In a captive scenario, it’s generally a long process of gradually wearing her down over weeks, even months of sustained abuse and trauma. The stories don’t make you wait quite that long, though.

Her hand unconsciously drifted to her pussy, and she discovered it was sopping wet. Suddenly she realized what a stupid question it had been. If she was looking forward to being broken, wanting it to happen, then wasn’t she in fact already there? From the moment he’d brought her into this basement she’d been playing along, acting out her role. It was what she expected of herself, the situation demanded that she behave accordingly. That’s what made it erotic. But if this was her story, wasn’t it within her power to skip ahead? Or would that be too unrealistic and spoil the mood, to give in after only… how long had she been here, anyway?

With no clock and no working windows, it was hard to say. She presumed she’d been dozing off continuously in the darkness as well. Wait, her meals, he had force fed her that dog food three times now. That meant it had probably been a day, give or take, which meant it was Saturday night or Sunday morning. That’s right, it was Friday night when he took her. She had forgotten that until now. Could that possibly have been a coincidence? Given the weekend, it would be two days after she went missing before anybody even suspected something was wrong. Or else… could it be? If he’d intended the rape as a roleplay that he merely didn’t let her in on until halfway through, was this the same thing? Just a weekend of kidnapping victim adventure before he sent her back to her normal life? Or was she fooling herself, constructing a false hope, and had nothing ahead of her but being chained up in this sparse basement?

Either way, she didn’t want to wait anymore. No more faking it to sustain the fantasy, it was time to live the reality. Just one last bit of roleplaying for continuity’s sake. The next time he came for her, she didn’t fight back. She let him push her to the mattress, get atop her, and slide his hard meat into her waiting pussy. “That’s right, slut, just take it. Take it good,” he encouraged in response to her not resisting. She whimpered quietly and turned her head away to avoid looking at him while he fucked her. She tried to think of something else, a peaceful meadow, cute animals, something to take her mind off it. That was a typical coping mechanism in this situation. Though in her case, it wasn’t to dissociate herself from the unwanted sex, it was to prevent her from enjoying it too much and giving herself away with loud moans and screams of passion. She could barely contain it when the orgasm hit her, her body shook as she held in the typical verbal accompaniment.

“There’s a good little bitch,” he said. He stood up, pulling her to her knees along the way. He pulled her face to his cock and shoved it down her throat. He skull fucked her deep and hard, slamming her face all the way against his crotch over and over. It really wasn’t a pleasant thing. She reflexively tried to pull away, was unable to, and then remembered she shouldn’t be trying anyway. She relaxed her throat as much as she could and let it happen. She tried to enjoy being used hard and painfully, but it still didn’t feel good at all. Throats weren’t built for this, at least, not without a good deal of practice. Finally his balls emptied into her mouth, filling it with the splendid taste of his cum. He eased his rod from her mouth, and said, “Swallow.” She did.

At her next meal time, rather than shun her bowl, she approached it slowly, feigning reluctance, signifying the last vestige of defiance dying away, the packing away of her free will to where it couldn’t hurt her anymore. She reached the bowl and ate eagerly. She felt him get down behind her and enter her ass, buttfucking her while she fed. When she finished, he pulled out and said, “Now clean this off.” This time she devoured his cock, slurping her anal juice off of it. He dipped back into her rear passage several more times, back and forth between her ass and her mouth. Then he laid her on her back on the mattress and sat over her face, putting his asshole right to her mouth. “For your dessert, eat me,” he ordered. “Oh God! Shit, yes!” he shouted out as he found out she was very good at licking ass.

From that point on, she didn’t hide her enjoyment when he fucked her. She played the role openly of acceptance that her place was being his to use. When he ordered her into position for flogging again, she obeyed. This time he arranged the vibrators first, and flogged her while they worked their magic on her clit and inside her pussy. The combination drove her wild and her screams were many and varied. When he took her down he fucked her in all three holes and finished off by cumming in her pussy. She didn’t have to playact the pleasure, that was completely genuine. She’d never before felt so splendidly used. After her sixth meal of dog food, she settled into the mattress, tired out from a day of vigorous and exhilarating sex slave fucking.

She awoke to the first rays of dawn coming in through her bedroom window. What? Her hand went to her neck to check, but she could already feel it, her collar was gone. So were her cuffs. She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed, something she hadn’t known was possible. The conflicting emotions roiled inside her. The tears started slowly, then she was suddenly bawling, sobbing, grateful to be free and yet missing her chain already.

Continued in Chapter 3

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© the Perv Otaku, 2016

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