The Hostage

Reader discretion is adviced, this story contain graphic content depicting violence and rape which may not be suitable to all readers. This is a fictional story and do not portray real events or real persons.

I thought I lived a charmed life. No hurdle was too high, no problem was too hard to correct. Both professionally and personally, things always seemed to turn out right for me. That was until I got that phone call one Friday afternoon.

I’m Michael Connelly. I’m a 34 year old guy who married the sweetest woman a few years ago, and we were working on some kids. I’ve been a police officer with the Jacksonville Police Department in Florida for the past 12 years. In those years, I’ve worked mostly undercover vice and narcotics, but because of some notoriety I received a year ago, I was currently assigned to the Homicide Division.

The notoriety was when I was working in Vice, and I was able to identify and theninfiltrate a human trafficking ring. It was truly the case of a lifetime, and my charmed life did not fail me. After almost a year of undercover work, I was able to rescue 22 women who had been abducted and were being forced to prostitute themselves. The case also netted 12 arrests and all were looking a decades in federal prison. The case received national attention and my face was all over the news, I appeared on several news and talk shows and there was even talk about a book deal and a movie. I took the attention in stride but I had to admit, I did enjoy being in the spotlight. Anyway, because of the attention there was no way I could ever work undercover again. So, I was assigned to the detective division.

The phone call came around 4 pm on the first Friday in November. It was a chilly day in Northeast Florida when I had arrived home from work. I was looking forward to getting some much needed work done around the house because my homicide team was not on call this weekend and my wife had flown out to Texas to visit with her sister. That’s when the phone call came. It was a Facetime call.

The number was blocked and I considered sending it to voicemail, but curiosity got the best of me so I tapped the green icon on my iPhone screen and said, “Hello?”

After the call connected, I couldn’t see a face looking back at me. All I could see was what appeared to be a livingroom in some house that was unfamiliar to me.

“Hello?” I repeated.

I was about to disconnect the call when a man said, “Michael, how serious are you about your job?”

“Who is this?” I asked. More confused than anything.

“Would you do everything in your power to save someone you didn’t know?” the man said. “Save someone who meant nothing to you?”

No idea where this was going, I decided to play along. “Of course I would.”

The man snorted a humorless scoff. “Always the hero.”

The picture on the screen began to move across the room and down a hall. Once he reached the end of the hall, I saw a hand reach for the doorknob. “How much of a hero will you be now?”

The door was opened just as I said, “I don’t know who you are but I’m about to hang…”

I never finished my thought, because on the screen was a young woman – naked and tied to a chair. She was blindfolded and gagged with silver duct tape. I was speechless for a few second because the scene took me so by surprise. The man walked to the woman and a knife appeared in his other hand and it was held near her throat.

“Should I, Michael?” he asked. “Should I do it?”

“No!” I snapped. “Don’t hurt her! What do you want?”

The knife pulled back and the man walked out of the room and back into the hallway. The door closed behind him and he continued to walk toward the livingroom.

“If you want to save this girl, Michael,” he said as he walked, “I want you to hang up, get in your car and drive toward the football stadium.”

“Listen, you need to...”

“No, Michael!” he interrupted. “You need to do exactly as I say or this girl dies.”

“Why would you do this?” I asked.

“All will be revealed,” he said. “After I hang up, you will not contact your co-workers. You will not call the police. You will not radio the station. You will drive to the football stadium and I will give you more instructions shortly. I will know if you call anyone. I will know if you deviate from you travels. You call anyone, you notify anyone, and I’ll cut her throat while you watch on the phone. Do you understand me?”

After a second, I replied, “Yes. I understand.”

“And just to let you know that I’m serious about my boast about knowing everything you’ll do and everywhere you will go,” he said. “I know about your profiles on Collarspace, Fetlife and all the other websites you use.”

I froze. No one knew about my kinky side. Not even my wife. She was such a straight-laced woman there was no way she would play tie up games with me. Years ago, I finally decided to give into the desire I had tried to ignore my whole life. Ever since I was a kid, I loved the thought of being bound tight and dominated by a woman. I had met a few people over the years but my desires were never fulfilled.

The phone disconnected.

I started to call the station, but stopped. I have no idea if his threats were legitimate. And I had no idea how he knew about my accounts on several BSDM hookup sites. If he knew that – I never posted a face picture or used my real name – there was no guessing what he knew or would do. I decided against my better judgement to not inform anyone of the situation and go it alone.

I was still dressed in my work clothes – a white polo shirt, khaki slacks, and comfortable brown shoes and on my belt I had my service weapon, my badge, two spare magazines and handcuffs – so I ran out of my house, got in my car and sped out of my neighborhood. Traffic was bad as usual, but I was able to use the blue lights in the grill of my car to make better time than could be expected. I crossed the Main Street Bridge into downtown and turned east on Bay Street toward the football stadium.

As I passed the police station, and again considered stopping and going in for reinforcements, my iPhone rang. It was a regular phone call and from an unknown number. I picked it up, answered it and said, “I’ve done everything you asked.”

“I know,” the man said. “And your diligence just may save that poor girl. I want you to continue on Bay Street. When you pass the stadium, pull into the radio station on your right and make the first left. Take that road all the way down till it dead ends.”

“Under the expressway?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “Stop your car near the pond and await my instructions.”

Five minutes later, I was under the Hart Expressway and near a pond at the dead end. There did not appear to be anyone around. My phone rang.

“Turn the car off and get out,” he ordered.

I did as I was told. My hand went to my weapon on my hip. I was not expecting anything but no reason to be the least bit complacent.

“Walk to the far pillar near the fence,” he instructed.

I kept the phone at my ear and walked toward the last support pillar from the expressway closest to me. I gripped the handle of my weapon and got ready to draw it if a threat presented itself, but there was no one behind the large concrete support pillar. Just a gym bag.

“Open the gym bag,” he directed.

I looked around once again but saw no one. I knelt down and opened the bag. My eyes went wide. Inside there was a pair of black running tights, a matching tight spandex long sleeve workout shirt, black athletic socks and running shoes.

“Listen carefully, Michael,” he said. “I want you to strip naked and put all your clothes in the gym bag. That includes your gun and everything else on your belt. Then get dressed in the workout gear.”

I looked around again. Thinking this could be a distraction while someone got closer to me, but there was no one in sight. “Why the hell do I have to put on these clothes?”

“One, because I said so,” he said. “I’m in charge and I tell you what to do and not to do. Two, if you want to save that poor girl, you’ll get naked, drop everything on you in the bag – including your gun – and dress in the workout clothes. I want to be able to see that you aren’t trying to conceal a weapon. Also, I want to make sure you are not wearing a wire or have a gps tracker on your person. And three, I think you’ll look cute in that skin tight outfit.”

I put the phone down and got undressed. I placed every article of clothing I was wearing and all my gear in the bag. Then I quickly dressed in the shirt and tights. I put on the socks and sneakers last. I was surprised to see that the clothes and shoes fit me perfectly. He knew my size…

I picked up the phone. “Now what?”

“Leave the bag and get in your car,” he ordered. “Drive toward the Town Center.”

The Town Center was an immense outdoor shopping complex with apartment complexes, restaurants and bars. It was always busy no matter the time or the season. Twenty minutes later, I was pulling off the interstate and negotiating the traffic into the Town Center. My phone rang again.

“I want you to park in the southeast parking area near the new apartment complex,” he said.

He stayed on the line and directed me to the place he wanted me to park. He ordered me to turn off the car, take my watch and wedding ring off, exit the car and lock it. After I had complied and was standing outside my locked car, he said, “Put you keys in the gas cap cover.”

After the keys were placed where he told me, he said, “Walk toward the Dick’s Sporting Goods.”

I started walking that way with the phone still at my ear. “Will you tell me what the hell is going on? Why are you doing this? When will you release the girl?”

“Stop,” he ordered.

I did not know if he meant stop asking questions or stop walking. So I sort of stopped and looked around. I heard a click from a black Honda Accord that I was standing directly behind. When I turned toward the car I saw the trunk had come ajar. I looked into the Accord but there was no one inside the car. I looked around again but saw no one. The lot was crowded but no people were walking near me.

“Open the trunk,” he ordered.

“When does the girl get released?” I asked.

“As soon as you do everything I ask,” he said. “Now open the trunk.”

I opened the trunk and saw a pair of silver Smith & Wesson hinged handcuffs, a large roll of silver duct tape, a small packet with foam ear plugs and one ziptie.

“Like what you see?” he asked. “I’ve read all your profiles you have online. You like bondage. You like being tied up.”

I looked around again but saw no one near. “What the hell do you want?”

“I want you to climb into the trunk and close the lid shut.”

“There is no way I am getting into this trunk!” I snapped.

“Then you are condemning that poor girl to a painful death…”

“Shit!” I muttered, and then climbed in the trunk and closed the lid.

As soon as it clicked shut, he said, “Put me on speaker and place the phone down.”

I did as ordered. There was surprisingly more light in the trunk that I would have assumed there should be. It was dark but I could see clearly enough by the light of my phone’s screen. There was more room than I assumed there would be also.

“First, take off your shoes and socks,” he ordered.

After I did as instructed, he said, “Grab the duct tape and tape you ankles together tightly.”

I reached over to the roll of tape, placed my ankles together and began wrapping the tape around them. After several wraps around, my ankles were tightly bound together. I was scared to say the least, but angry at myself because I could feel my dick starting to get hard.

God damnit, I thought. How can I get a boner in this situation?

“Wrap the tape just below your knee, also,” he said. “I don’t want you wiggling free.”

I complied. When my knees were secured together, he said, “Now grab your socks and shove them in your mouth.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“You heard me,” he said slowly. “Do it now or she’s as good as dead.”

I grabbed the two short socks and shoved them in my mouth. They tasted like my sweaty feet.

“Wrap the tape around your mouth several times,” he ordered. “Complete the gag.”

I wrapped the tape around the lower portion of my face, effectively gagging me.

“Are you hard yet, Michael?” he asked.

“Mmph,” my reply sounded like. And I was hard, much to my chagrin.

“Open the packet of ear plugs and put them in,” he said.

As I was complying, I realized these would not make me completely deaf. I had used these while qualifying at the gun range. I could still hear, but not very well. After they were in he said, “Now, blindfold yourself with the tape.”

I could hear his voice through the speakers good enough in the quiet trunk. I ripped off a piece and covered my eyes. The sticky tape effectively blinded me. I could not see anything.

“Finally, I want you to cuff your hands behind your back,” he said in a slow deliberate voice. “I’ll hear the ratchetting but grunt when they are in place.”

I fumbled around for a few seconds but quickly found the handcuffs. I closed the first cuff around my right wrist and ratchetted it closed. I placed both hands behind my back and maneuvered the second cuff around my left wrist. Before I secured it around my free hand, I thought about the consequences of my actions. No one knew where I was or what I was doing. No one would miss me if I went missing for at least three days. And I was about to make myself completely helpless for an obviously deranged person.

But, he would kill the girl if I did not comply…

The second cuff closed heavily around my left wrist.

I grunted as ordered but heard nothing from the phone.

I was in the trunk for what seemed like an eternity. Alone with my thoughts and my fears. I started to test the bonds but I knew I had secured myself well. And the cuffs were too tight to squeeze my hands free. Suddenly the truck popped open. I could not see anything because of the tape over my eyes. I felt hands on me as my body and bonds were explored. I grunted into the gag but was ignored. He rubbed his hands over my ass and reached around and grabbed my still hard cock. I think I heard him laugh but the ear plugs made it difficult. Suddenly he pulled my tights down and exposed my ass. Then he folded my ankles up toward the small of my back. He began fumbling with the cuffs around my wrist, and then I heard a zipping sound and my wrist and ankles were tightly bound together in a painful and restrictive hogtie.

The trunk lid closed. I heard and felt a car door open and close and then the Honda started. The car back out of the parking spot and began to drive. I struggled against the hogtie but I only tired myself out. The cuffs were being pulled harshly against my wrists because of my ankle pulling from the opposite direction. My hands quickly went numb and the last chance I had in somehow pulling the tape off my ankles ended. I spend the rest of the time in the trunk trying to angle my body into a position where the circulation in my hands returned, but I was pretty much unsuccessful.

The drive was long – I had no idea how long because I had lost all sense of time – but finally the car stopped and the truck popped open. I could hear what I thought was a garage door closing. I felt a hand on my ass as someone lovingly rubbed my rump. The hands moved to my penis (which was still embarrassingly hard) and I was given a few strokes. The hands let go of my dick and I was rolled onto my belly. Next, the ziptie securing my ankles to my handcuffs was cut away and the relief I felt in my hands was immediate. The tape around my ankles and knees was cut away and I was pulled roughly from the trunk. My tights were pulled up and my cock was grabbed again.

I was grabbed on my right bicep and directed forcefully into what I assumed was a house or apartment. After a moment I was pushed down onto my knees, and I sensed the person who was with me walking around in front of me. Then I was slapped hard across the face. Followed by three more hard slaps. The blows were not painful, but they stunned me for a few seconds. Then I felt arms wrap around my neck and place me in a chokehold. Within seconds, I could not breath and I felt immediately lightheaded. My last conscious thought was that this person was about to kill me.

When I regained consciousness, I had no idea how long I was out, but things had changed. I was naked and on a carpeted surface. The blindfold was still there but I was sure it was no longer the tape I had put there. The gag had been removed and replaced with a ballgag. My hands were still behind by back but the handcuffs had been swapped out for rope. There appeared to be rope around my elbows also, and rope around my chest pinning my trussed up arms to my back. My ankles were tied, too. Rope also, I believed. There was also rope tightly affixed above and below my knees. And my ankles were pulled up and attached to my wrist bonds. This hogtie was uncomfortable but nowhere near as painful as the one I was in while in the Honda’s trunk.

I began to test the bonds but the ropes were expertly applied. I could barely move and there seemed no way for me to get loose on my own. Suddenly, one of the ear plugs was pulled out and I could hear clearly for the first time in what I assumed was hours. Then, the ballgag was unbuckled and removed.

As I worked the kinks out of my mouth, I heard, “You look so good all tied up on my floor, Michael. I wish you could see it.”

My mouth was very dry, but I cleared my throat and said in a gravelly voice, “You said you’d release the girl if I did everything that you said.”

“Such the hero,” he mocked. “Michael, the girl you saw was a hooker. I picked her up this afternoon. Told her that I’d give her five times her going rate if I could tie her up naked. Of course she agreed. Right after I got off the Facetime call with you, I untied her and sent her on her way. I knew there was no way you would ever not do what I said. You’re too wrapped up in the hero complex. You started to believe what the people in the news were saying about you. I never had a hostage…but I have one now.”

“Why did you do this?” I asked.

“Because after you made the news, and all the folks in the media were singing your praises, I began to do some digging,” he said. “It took a while, but I found your little secret. You’re a perv, Michael. You like to get tied up. Well, I figured that I’d help you with your fantasy while I check something off my bucket list.”

“What are you checking off?”

“I always wanted to kidnap a hot alpha male cop,” he said slowly, “and fuck his virgin ass!”

I opened my mouth to say something and the ballgag was shoved back in and buckled tight behind my head. The rope connecting the hogtie was removed and my ankles fell to the floor. I felt him smear some cool gel on my rosebud and I tried to roll away and thrash. He was on my back lightening quick and hand me in another chokehold. Within seconds, I was unconscious again.

I awoke with him entering my ass with his large cock. I tried to pull away, but the ropes were too tight and I was still woozy from being knocked out. The hammering in my ass went on for a long while and he finally came inside me. He withdrew and left me on the floor for several minutes before returning.

“That was amazing, Michael,” he said. “I love taking a straight guy’s cherry. Especially when he doesn’t want to give it up!”

He put the ear plug back in and untied the ropes around my elbows and my chest.

“It’s getting late and we have a lot to accomplish tomorrow,” he said. “I need you to get some sleep so I’m making you as comfortable as I can.”

He left me and went to bed (I assumed). I spent the next several hours trying in vain to get loose from the ropes. The only thing this action accomplished was it made me expend energy. Finally, I fell asleep.

I woke to something whipped across my ass cheek and pain. I though he had hit me with a belt but I was only guessing. The blindfold he had on me had not loosened a bit since I woke up naked the night before.

“Wake up, fucktoy!” he commanded. “Daddy wants some morning action!”

I started to roll onto my back and wanted to bring my legs up in hopes to kick at him, when a plastic bag was pulled over my head and tightened around my neck. It took a second for me to realize what he was doing. I started to thrash, but he sat on my chest and pinned me to the floor. As the last of the air in the bag was quickly used up, and the bag was pulled up tight against my face, I knew there was no getting oxygen into my lungs unless he removed the bag. I tried to buck him off, but the constant and tight bondage, the physical exertion I had expelled, the lack of sleep, food and water and the stress of the last several hours sapped my strength. My lungs burned until my thrashing stopped and I was unconscious again.

When I woke, the gag, blindfold and ear plugs were still in place. My arms were still tied behind my back. I was on my stomach and my legs were secured to the bottom corners of the bed. This opened my ass cheeks wide. There was a rope around my neck and secured to what I assumed was the headboard. The more I struggled to free my legs, the more the rope around my neck tightened. I tried to relax.

He jumped on the bed. “Man, I do love morning sex, don’t you, Michael?”

He entered me violently and thrust like a piston engine. He randomly pulled the rope around my neck, slapped me hard across the back of the head and punched me in the back as he raped me. The beating he was giving me must have turned him on because – thankfully – he came much quicker this time.

He only lay on top of me for a short while before he withdrew. He untied the rope around my neck and my feet. He helped me off the bed and had me sit on a wooden chair. He then began retying my ankles together. When he was done with the ankles, he reapplied the rope above and below the knees, around my elbows and around my chest. Then he made me kneel on the floor.

The ballgag was removed and I could not believe how much my jaw hurt. He put a bottle of water to my mouth and I drank greedily. I quickly sucked down the entire bottle, and then I started to work out the kinks in my jaw. My right nipple instantly hurt followed by my left. I knew he had put some kind of clamp on them. Then I felt his cock up against my mouth. I instantly forgot about my nipples and pulled my head back. He roughly grabbed me by the sides of my head and held me steady.

“My cock is filthy after fucking you in the ass last night and this morning,” he said. “You need to clean it for me.”

I tried to shake my head but he held it fast. “I won’t!”

“Yes you will,” her said menacingly.

Then he removed his hands from my head and slapped me hard across the face.

“Suck my dick, bitch!”

Before I could reply, he slapped me again. “Suck it!”

I have no idea how many times he slapped me but in the end, his cock was in my mouth. It was foul tasting and I knew exactly why. This thought had me gagging almost as much as his cock at the back of my throat. Slowly he began to stiffen again, and he began to rhythmically thrust. Then he began grunting and the grunts got louder until he cried out and shot his load into my mouth.

He quickly withdrew and placed his hands over my mouth. “You better fucking swallow that, you cunt!”

I held his seed in my mouth. Unable to swallow it but unable to spit it out.

“If you don’t swallow my shit – and fucking thank me – I’ll beat you to death! I fucking swear I will!”

I swallowed, and he removed his hands from my mouth. My mouth opened instinctively and the ballgag was back in and buckled painfully behind my head. Then he wrapped the duct tape around my lower face. This pushed the ballgag even deeper into my mouth and locked it in securely in place. The sounds emanating from me were pathetic groans that did not resemble words.

“Did you thank me?” he asked.

I said thank you but only a muffled sound could be heard.

“You’re welcome, cunt!”

He then threw me roughly to the floor and reapplied the hogtie. When he was done, he walked away. I rolled onto my side to get the nipple clamps off the floor. The pressure on my nipples was very painful and there was no way I could loosen them.

At least an hour went by and I was alone. I struggled to free myself, but the results were the same. The ropes were too tight, too well applied and I was too tired to effectively maneuver. Even through my intense discomfort, I must have fallen asleep but was rudely awakened by a belt looped around my neck. The belt was quickly tightened and then my body was being dragged across the carpeted floor.

My air intake was instantly stopped and I kicked wildly with my bound legs. The man was easily able to drag me across the room and I found myself on a hardwood floor. Just before I lost consciousness again, he stopped dragging me and the belt slackened. I dry heaved into my gag and tried with all my might not to throw up. I knew that if I threw up, I might aspirate and drown in my own vomit. Something told me my captor might not care if I died.

I calmed my sick feeling and sucked in air through my nose loudly. The belt was removed from my neck, but then I was slapped across the thighs with the belt. I tried to move out of the way but the strokes kept coming. He beat my legs, buttocks, back and chest for several minutes. Then, as quickly it had started, he stopped and walked away.

I no longer tried to get loose. I did not have the strength to fight for freedom. I just wanted it to end…one way or the other. I lay on the floor, unmoving except for the rise and fall of my chest for several minutes. The man returned and rolled me onto my stomach and forced me up onto my knees. I felt the cool gel applied again, but did nothing to resist. There was no use in trying. This man had me and I was his property.

As he entered me again, he said something about the beating he gave me made him hard again. I began to think about all the fantasies I have had my entire life. The fantasies where I was kidnapped and tied up. It was always a driving desire that I could not get out of my head. Now, it had finally happened, and I wanted no part of it. If I survived this encounter, I promised myself that I would never visit those BDSM personal sites, and I would never hook up with people to get myself tied. I would learn to enjoy the bland, vanilla life that my wife lived.

When he came in my ass again, he withdrew and slapped me playfully on my ass cheek. “Thank you, honey. I’m really enjoying myself. I hope you are too.”

I slumped to the floor and could feel his cum rolling down the crack of my ass. The man seemed to be sitting there watching me, but he did not say anything or touch me. I passed out and woke up when my legs were being untied. In a few minutes, my legs were free and I tried to stretch them out the best I could. Then he grabbed my right foot and began forcing it into some material. I few seconds went by before I realized he was putting the running tights back on me.

When they were on, forced me into a seated position and removed the duct tape around my mouth. When the tape was gone, he unbuckled the ballgag and pulled it from my mouth. Another bottle of water was placed at my lips and I drank it. Most of the water fell out of my mouth because of fatigue and my jaw still not responding correctly. When the bottle was empty, he untied my elbows and release the rope around my chest. Next, he removed the nipple clamps. This was the freest I had been since I started binding myself in the trunk of the Accord. I was blindfolded and my wrists were bound behind my back. If there was ever a chance to fight back, it was now. But I was so exhausted and beaten down. I did not think I could resist. Then I felt something cold against my throat.

“Remember the knife you saw at the girl’s throat?” he asked.

I nodded slightly.

“I’m going to remove the ropes around your wrists,” he said. “If you try to fight me, I’ll cut you up and drop your body in the river. Do you understand?”

I nodded meekly.

The ropes were removed. I was finally free, but I just sat there. He put the long sleeve shirt on me like he was dressing a child. When the shirt was on, he pulled my hands behind my back and snapped on handcuffs.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

I did not delay or waver. I opened my mouth and he shoved in to pieces of cloth that I realized were the socks he had made me gag myself with when this nightmare had started. Then he wrapped duct tape around my mouth. When complete, he smoothed out the tape and stood me up. He walked me across the hardwood and onto a concrete surface. He spun me around and pushed me into a sitting position until my rump rested on a hard surface. There appeared to be nothing behind me so I could not lean back.

He placed my legs together and duct taped my ankles together. Then he wrapped the tape around the area below my knees. He stood up and gripped me by the shoulder. He pushed me backward but held on to my shoulders and kept me from falling. He angled me downward until I rested against a solid surface. I realized he was placing me in the trunk of his car again. He rolled me onto my stomach and applied the ziptie to hogtie my ankles to the handcuffs on my wrists.

Then I heard him say, “We need to go for a long ride. We are moving to a new place. I’m worried that your friends may notice you absence and start looking for you. I have a cabin in the Georgia mountains that will be perfect for us. It’s quiet and miles from any people. Think of the fun we will have.”

The trunk slammed shut. A minute later, the car was moving. Shortly after that, I was either asleep or unconscious.

I woke up to the man in the process of cuffing my hands in front of me. I was free of the hogtie, had no idea how long we had been driving, and no idea how long we had been stopped. He removed the ear plugs and then cut away the tape around my ankles and legs. Next, he removed the tape from around my mouth and pulled out the socks. He then helped me out of trunk and into a standing position. He maneuvered me to an area a few feet away and put something around my neck.

“When I drive away,” he said, “you can remove your blindfold.”

I was too out of it to respond. I heard a car start and then it appeared to drive away. I was confused and it took me a minute to reach my cuffed hands to my blindfold and peel it away. It took a few long seconds before I was able to start unwrapping it. Then, the blindfold was gone and the sunlight assaulted my eyes.

I squinted against the pain until my eyes adjusted to the light. The first thing I saw was rows and rows of cars. I looked around and knew I was in the exact parking lot I had been kidnapped from. I looked behind me and saw my car. I looked down and saw the thing he had put around my neck was a dogtag chain with a handcuff key attached. I removed the chain and unlocked the handcuffs.

Again, I looked around and saw nobody close to where I was standing. I retrieved the keys from where I had left them (inside the gas cap cover), opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat. Sitting on the front passenger seat was the gym bag I left neat the pond. Inside was all my clothes and gear.

I drove home and never reported the incident. I told no one. Never even told my wife.

Six months later…

It was a beautiful May afternoon and I was grilling steaks for dinner. My wife was inside preparing the sides and I had opened my first beer. That’s when my phone chimed. I had a text message. I fished it out of my pocket and saw it was from an unknown number. I opened the message and saw someone had sent me several pictures.

They were all of me in tight restrictive bondage. Even with the blindfold and gags, anyone could easily tell it was me. In all the pictures, I was either sucking a dick or being fucked in the ass by a person who’s face was not seen in the photographs. I stood gawking at the pictures when the phone rang. I did not have to look to see who was calling me. I knew it was an unknown number.

I answered.

The man said, “Michael, I’ve missed you so much. If you don’t want me to send these pictures to your wife and co-workers, get in your car right now and drive to the Town Center. Bring your own handcuffs this time. I think it’s fucking sexy as hell to take you again using your own handcuffs…”