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By Anonymous

As I drove into the driveway, the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. It was 4am and I'd just gotten off work. I always get home at this time, don't know why I would be feeling nervous now. I gathered up my stuff and started to get out of the truck. I had never noticed the car that had driven up behind the driveway, blacked out. And I didn't notice the person dressed all in black that had snuck up to the side of my truck. I didn't notice until it was too late, when I felt the arm wrap around my waist and the hand clamp over my mouth with a rag soaked in something so strong, it overpowered my senses. I remember trying to fight, but I kept fighting to breath past the rag. My arms felt sluggish as I tried to connect with something. It was like a thousand dreams I'd had, where I was trying to fight someone, and I would ball up my fist and give it all my strength, and then feel like it was moving through water, super slow, barely making contact. That's exactly how I felt, like I was moving in slow motion, barely able to move. I think I remember kicking, and him picking me up off the ground so easily, feeling his grip around my face and waist and thinking he must be incredibly strong, because I wasn't little by any means. I'm short, but solidly built and a little overweight.

But that was a long time ago, a lifetime ago. I can barely remember my old life. Everything changed drastically. Some of it is as clear as yesterday, and other parts, like it was years ago. In reality, its been 6 months since I started this new life. I guess I should tell you something about myself. I was a workaholic married to a workaholic. I had never dated before marrying my husband, and had been so shy growing up that guys never noticed I was around. When I met my husband I thought that this was it, this was my life forever. Boy was I wrong. Things were destined to change, for the better I think, but at the time it scared me to death. I'd been married for about 9 years when I realized how unfulfilling my sex life was. I knew there was a lot missing and I went looking for it. I had a longterm affair, but he didn't have a whole lot of time for me. But I learned a lot during that time, a lot about me and what I wanted. And what I found out was that I was kinky. At least by my husband's standards.

I started spending time on the computer and in chat rooms. That's where I met him. In a chat room that is. I spent most of my time in D/s rooms, learning the internet rules of D/s, knowing that the real thing was totally different, but I really didn't think I had a chance of that anyway. This was just for fun, to fulfill part of that need I had. I became his online submissive and as such I had assignments. And I had to write about my assignments. Sometimes it would be to write about my deepest, darkest desires, or my fears. Ok, most of the time it was about those things. And how they made me feel. For the most part, they scared me, but excited me at the same time. I was starting to become so confused, sometimes I wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. He sent me a picture of himself and I was relieved to see that he wasn't an ogre, in fact, he was downright handsome. Course I was no princess so I was amazed when he liked the picture I sent him. Over the months we talked and talked, mostly over the computer, and then by phone. Cyber sex is one thing, but phone sex, OH MY GOD. It can be incredible. Just hearing a voice while you play with your toys, closing your eyes, pretending he's there with you. I'm wet just thinking about it.

Anyway, we had been talking for months and he suggested meeting in real life. I gave him every reason in the world why I couldn't meet him. He wanted me to leave my husband and come live with him and be his real life slave. I said he was crazy and there was no way I could do something like that. I had a family, I had a job, I had a life. I just couldn't. Well, needless to say, he didn't care what I said. He took it upon himself to help me through it. He always said he could tell what was best for me. And that's what led up to my abduction in the middle of the night. He had it all planned out. He knew exactly when I got home from work every day. He knew none of my neighbors would be out at that time, and hubby would be sound asleep. It would be hours before anyone noticed I was not at home. And most importantly, I had my laptop with me. So there was no way anyone could find our emails or my stories. Or find out anything about the other life I was leading.

When I came to I was blindfolded and gagged, and I couldn't tell where I was. I couldn't move my arms or my legs. All I could hear was my own heartbeat. I could tell I wasn't wearing any clothes because I could feel my skin touching something, but I couldn't tell if it was wood, or plastic, or what. I felt claustrophobic and started to panic, and as I attempted to thrash around, I could tell that I was in some type of box-like container. I tried to scream but with a gag, all that came out were odd animal-like sounds. I couldn't hear the box open but I felt it, the change in air on my skin. Then I felt his touch on my breasts, just lightly over my nipples, then down my chest to my stomach. I couldn't hear a thing, and I realized I must have some sort of earplugs on. I was petrified. And then the box closed up and I was alone again.

I couldn't tell how long it was until he came back. But as soon as the box opened, I knew he would touch me, and this time, my body ached for it. As soon as his fingertips hit my skin, I tried to move into it, as they trailed down my chin and neck, around my nipples, down to my stomach and thighs. I could feel myself leaking fluid from my pussy and I didn't even know who this person was! What kind of sex-crazed slut was I? I didn't care who it was, my body was craving some sort of stimulation. This being in a box, not seeing, hearing, feeling anything, was torture. And the feel of his fingers was pure pleasure. And then, just as I could feel myself getting close, the box closed. This went on for god knows how long. He would just barely touch me, letting me become more and more excited. And every time it took less of his touch. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he opened the box and went right to my pussy. I felt him peel the lips back and I'm sure it was his tongue, flicking on my clit, pushing his tongue into my soaking wet cunt. I came almost immediately, my hips straining against the bindings, my breathing ragged as I tried to let loose. My muscles were jerking and spasming as I came and came and came. And then, the box closed. It took several minutes for me to calm down.

The next thing I remember is the box opening and 2 strong hands lifting me out and setting me down on the floor. The bindings were undone and I sat there for a few minutes rubbing my wrists, trying to get the feeling back into my hands, and feeling the cuffs in place there. I started to bring my hands up to take off the gag and blindfold but they were jerked out from me by the strap he still had attached to the cuffs. I still couldn't see or hear, but I did have a sense of smell and I could smell cologne. He must have realized this because the next thing he did took that away from me too. I felt a hood being placed over my head. Not something like the Ku Klux Klan wears, not loose fitting at all. But it felt like thick leather and it fit over my head so tightly I wasn't sure it wouldn't crack my skull. I could feel him tightening it. There were no nose holes, only a hole for my mouth. So now my sense of smell was gone. This was complete, utter darkness and silence. All I could hear was my own body, my heart pounding in my chest, the blood rushing through my head. He led me across the floor, I prayed he wouldn't let me run into things just for fun. I slid my feet along the floor at first, but he would have none of that and I felt a crop hit my legs til I started walking normally. When I ran into the toilet, I felt a flood of relief. I needed to go so bad, but was I allowed? I hesitated, waiting for some sign, I certainly couldn't ask. He didn't move, so I figured that it was ok. I waited to be yanked away, but he didn't. Thank god. When I was finished, it was a little awkward without being able to see but I managed, he tugged on the straps and I followed as best I could.

I was getting a lot better at this walking behind him. I was getting pretty confident that he wouldn't run me into anything. The next stop was the kitchen. Of course, without my sense of smell I couldn't tell until he took out the gag and handed me the toast, it had strawberry jam on it, my favorite. It took me a while to get the hang of getting it in the mouth hole, but I got better at that too. As soon as I was done eating, the gag was back. I jumped when I felt his tongue on my chest, licking off the crumbs, but I immediately was shaking, jerking, my pussy pouring out fluids. Every touch drove me to ecstasy. I longed for it, would have begged for it if I was allowed to speak.

It seemed like I was following him for hours and hours, sometimes sitting still until my joints ached. I knew better than to fidget. It only took a few whacks with the crop on my ass cheeks to figure that one out. I was always a quick study. Every so often he would touch me again, sometimes just stroke my calf, sometimes the inside of my arm, but again, that's all it took to set me off, shaking, spasming, fluids flowing freely down my legs. I was a regular laboratory study in conditioning. Pavlov's slave. And then, far too soon, he was binding my arms and legs and I was back in the box. If it hadn't been for the gag, I would have begged and pleaded for him to let me out. I would have promised him anything to keep me out of that box. The only good part was that the hood came off. I could feel him bathing my face with a wet rag, there were still some toast crumbs that had fallen inside the mask. And then, back in the box, unable to move. Waiting for tomorrow.

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