A story for Wicked Wednesday. The prompt ?+?=?.
As ever click the badge to find others who are truly wicked.
He walked briskly from the office building to his car then patted his suit jacket in a moment of agitation thinking he might have left his car keys in his coat. Finally finding them he activated the central locking then paused a moment staring down at the boot. Bending down he released the catch. Not allowing the boot door to lift on its hinges he held it low and bent down further to reach in, one hand patting blindly knowing what he was looking for had been left there the night before. Ignoring the warmth of a leg, an arm, a tangle of hair, he lifted the door slightly higher to glance in. Not meeting the eyes of the woman watching him he saw his briefcase, grabbed it and swiftly straightened himself, slamming the boot shut. Stepping back and taking a deep breath he looked around him. No-one about. His hand was wet. Not letting his mind consider the implications of that wetness, he wiped his hand across his trousers as he walked slowly back to the office gathering his composure as he prepared himself to continue with the meeting.
She lay in the darkness. The tape across her lips had begun to itch, sucking moisture from her skin and her mouth as each attempt to swallow pulled the adhesive tighter across her face. Her saliva had dried up making her tongue feel swollen and she tried to steady her breathing to suppress the cough that threatened to constrict her throat. Her hair had snagged on something. The slightest movement caused it to pull painfully. Her arms tied behind her had gone numb. She tried rolling her body occasionally in an attempt to allow the blood to flow but the pins and needles were so painful she had simply let the numbness take over. She tried to flex her legs but they ached with the pain of being tied and bent awkwardly into this small space.
She had needed to pee almost immediately the car had parked. Sods law. In the absence of opportunity the need had quickly become unbearable. She had hung onto her pee, clenching her pelvic floor, trying to distract her mind until, tears pricking in her eyes at the horror of it, she felt the hot burning against her skin as liquid seeped out. She had released her muscles then, giving in to the flow. Such a volume of piss it was too. She felt the blanket around her dampen as the pee seeped along her back, under her ribs, soaking her stomach, causing her to squirm with the discomfort. With time the liquid turned ice cold and she began to shiver, the chaffing of the damp woollen fabric against her body increasing her discomfort to an unbearable level. The acrid smell of her own piss filled her every breath.
When she had heard the central locking release her relief had been immense. She was past caring what happened next, she only wanted to know something would happen. That this lonely darkness of waiting and wondering would change to something, anything else. The rush of cold had hit her like a wall, the light had stung her eyes as she tried to lift herself to breathe the freshness of new air. But then the hand had pushed her back down, had patted dispassionately across her aching, sodden limbs. No stroking, no sense that she might be feeling those brief touches, no connection to let her know that he acknowledged her at all. The hand had simply touched across her like inanimate luggage and then yanked out the briefcase wedged in beside her head. She had screamed against her gag as it was pulled away taking with it long strands of her hair in which the catch had tangled. And then the boot had slammed closed as brutally as a slap across her face.
The shock of this interlude had stopped her tears before they could form. He had not even met her eyes. He hadn't offered her anything; no human contact, no explanation, no sense of what would happen next, he had not even acknowledged that she was there. In her isolation, pain beginning to spread to every muscle in her back and neck, she felt anger rise and in spite of herself she began to kick out, forcing her limbs against the edges of the space to vent the frustration and confusion she was feeling. She had hurt herself, her restraints and the numbness in her limbs had meant that her whole body had moved in an uncoordinated way and she had hit her head hard against the metal structure around her. She felt the heat of blood drip across her eye and in that moment she felt a deep well of hatred in her. She hated him for what he was doing, for what he had reduced her to, and finally, giving in, she had cried. The tears ran down the sides of her head and into her ears, the wet seeping into her hair and causing more discomfort and she needed a tissue to blow her nose to be able to breathe more easily. She tried vainly to wipe her nose against her shoulder but her neck was so stiff and painful now that she could barely reach. The snot tickled and she wriggled her face causing the tape on her lips to snag and pinch and her eye to smart with pain as blood dried across the gash there. Aching with the effort of trying to endure her situation, her head dropped to the floor of the car boot, her muscles sagged and she stared into the darkness, entirely exhausted by resistance. Her breathing became shallow. Slowly with each breath in and out she folded into herself and her thoughts took her away to dark corners in her mind
In the beginning.
She had teased him continuously, encouraging him to push their boundaries. They enjoyed role-playing but always this had been within the confines and safety of their own home. They were private people. This side of their relationship was certainly not something they would share with anyone, they simply enjoyed the pleasure of exploration and taking on roles meant that they could step out of themselves and really leave behind any baggage of their every day lives to see where they could reach together.
The idea of the kidnap scenario had challenged them both. They planned everything so carefully. For weeks they wrote notes to each other and talked about how they wanted it to be. Every delicious detail. How he would take her by surprise one morning, tie her and gag her and carry her down to the garage and throw her into the car boot. How he would drive to a secluded area they knew and lift her from the car, throw her over his shoulder and then take her deep into the woods and fuck her any way he pleased as she was powerless to resist. A fairly straightforward fantasy really. But as they began to make their fantasy real and consider everything that might go wrong, the complexities of what they had planned became a part of the thrill. Knowing this was actually going to happen turned them on with an intensity they hadn't experienced before. Risk. A heady drug. So from the purely practical logistics of how to carry her into the garage given the amount of crap that was stored in there (the perfect excuse for a garage clear out) to the need to inform her office that she wouldn't be in work that day and the need to pack a kit bag of clothes and food and drink, they covered every detail; practical and logistical. The pleasure of the planning was as much as part of the experience as the event itself. There was much laughter, much anticipation. They had it all worked out.
The 'phone call.
He had woken her early, throwing off the quilt and straddling her and quickly silencing her complaints with tape across her mouth. Rolling her onto her front he had caught a flash of genuine fear in her eyes as her mind struggled to wake from sleep and take in what was happening. He was surprised at how fucking sexy that had been. How powerful he felt, how hard it made him to know that for her, for an instant, the fantasy was real. He bound her arms behind her back and in a moment of inspired improvisation, he spread her legs and fucked her fast and hard letting her know with his words exactly how often this was going to happen, how he would use her for as long and as much and in what ways he pleased. Turning her over he saw spirited anger in her face. He had already stepped outside the boundaries of what they had agreed would happen. Already she was in her role. He wrapped her in a blanket and picking up her small frame he carried her through the house as she struggled pointlessly against him. Once she was in the car boot he returned briefly to the house to lock up and stupidly, in a moment of total distraction, he had answered the 'phone call.
The company he worked for employed him to trouble shoot. Trouble on this scale was rare and there was no possibility of delegation without an hour or two of planning meetings. He placed the receiver back in the dock and looked at his watch. She had been in the boot for 10 minutes already. He tried to imagine how she would be feeling. She would surely be knocked off balance by the change to their plan. He thought for a moment about opening the boot and calling the whole thing off. He knew that would be disappointing but they could try again some other day. But it would never be the same, he knew the second time he woke her that way would always be a pale imitation. He thought long and hard about what his next move might be. The game had started. He didn't want it to end. He wanted to push her to a place where reality and role play would blur, to see that in her eyes again. He wanted her to know how far she could reach into her role and still find herself there.
Driving into work he didn't know how long this game would take to play out. The shift had been subtle but significant. Already he was so far into his role that owning her freedom. denying her choice, was the only thing in his mind. And he found the thrill of that beyond any he had ever known.