I’m awake but why is it so dark? I can’t move my arms. I don’t know what’s happened, let me try to remember. Last night was my 23 ^rd birthday party and I was out in town with my friends. I hate it when I drink so much that I can’t remember getting home at the end of the night. If I’m even home at all. Why can’t I move my hands? It feels like they’re bound with electrical tape but why would that have happened? I’ve really got to learn to control my drinking to stop me waking up in situations like this. It feels like I’m hanging, or swinging, or something else unusual like that.

“Hello?” No answer. Where the fuck am I? “Is anyone there?”

My hangover has kicked in as well, as if things weren’t bad enough already. As near as I can tell my entire body is suspended in the air. My wrists are bound, as are my ankles. There’s some kind of blindfold on me but wherever I am and whoever’s brought me here, they obviously don’t mind me making any noise because I’m not gagged. I listen intently for any inkling as to where I am. My memory isn’t helping as everything after 11pm is a complete blur. We were in the restaurant, then the eighties-style disco, then the club on Brook Street… but after that, nothing. I can hear the very distant drip of a tap and then suddenly I hear a heavy metal door open with a grinding sound, then as it slams shut noisily I hear footsteps, in what sounds like work boots, coming down some steps, then across the floor towards me.

After what seems like about half an hour, but is probably much less, and left alone with my thoughts, my mind wanders back to the events of the previous day. I’d been at work at the library, wheeling the trolley of books round to re-shelve them after customers brought them back. Nothing unusual there. I mean, there’s always unusual customers but nothing that I can recollect that is in any way connected to where I am now.

I just need to piece together last night’s events and this might all make a bit more sense. Surely none of my friends would have left me alone in town without making sure I got home okay. My conversation with Maria and Kerry at the start of the night had revolved around me being single and how it’d been a while since I last got laid. To be honest the prospect of being tied up and spanked, or whipped, or punished in some way is a massive turn-on for me. I know a lot of people like the idea of it but when faced with the pain of the whiplash across their arsecheeks, a lot of people turn chicken and ask to stop. Not me. I’ve had a few boyfriends who were more than happy to help me act out my bondage fantasy but sadly, apart from indulging my sexual desires, none of them were really interesting enough to become anything more than a short-term relationship.

Searing pain rips through my face as the electrical tape over my eyes is removed, and bright daylight streams in from the windows and momentarily blinds me. I try to focus. Who’s doing this to me? Where am I? Able to see my surroundings clearly for the first time, I realise I’m in a massive empty warehouse. There’s some old broken-looking machines pushed back against the walls that look like giant sewing machines. The floor is bare, and all there is near me is a brown leather sofa. I can see the workboots of the man who’s been tormenting me, but nothing else. I can’t turn my head to see any more than just his feet and ankles.

“Are you letting me go?” I ask, hoping that this ordeal can be over soon.

His silence angers me. I decide to try and rile him up. “Are you too fucking timid to walk where I can see you? Do you have to kidnap and tie women up to get your end away? You’re pathetic.”

He shuffles his feet and for the first time he speaks. “I’m not doing this to get my end away. I haven’t tried to pleasure myself in any way. This is all about you.”

And with that, he’s gone, clomping away to the door at the far side of the room, which I can’t quite see. Why has he taken my blindfold off. What does he want me to see? Before he manages to get to the door I decide to plead with him one more time. “Come on, get back over here. Untie me. Let me down from here. I just want to go home. Come on! You fucking coward, get back over here and tell me what you want with me!”

I hear him stop but he doesn’t say anything this time. He’s obviously stood there thinking about whether letting me go would be a good idea.

Then I hear him turn around and start walking back towards me, purposefully, and I hope I haven’t pissed him off. “You’re not going home,” he growls into my ear, before walking back between my legs. I hear the familiar ziiiip sound, then without warning I feel his enormous cock push past my swollen pussy lips, and fill my pussy from top to bottom. Everything he’d done up until now had seemed very calm and controlled but this seems reckless. My tight pussy walls grab his shaft, contracting against it.

He reaches underneath me and grabs my breasts, pulling just a little too hard on my nipples. I wince with the pain but I secretly love it. I can feel the blood pulsating through his massive member. In and out he goes, he’s obviously been wanting to fuck me since he got me here, and now he is, showing me the man he really is. My body jerks with pleasure and I try to push my body backwards so I can take in more of his huge cock but it’s so difficult to move when I’m tied up like this.

“Let me down,” I whisper. “I want you to fuck me but not like this.”

He pauses for a second, then slides his cock out of me. He waits for a second, then I hear him walk backwards a few steps, and suddenly I find myself being lowered to the ground. I’m now laid flat on my belly, on my face, and I hear a clink-clank as he undoes the chains attaching all the ropes to me. I’m no longer attached to the ceiling. This is a good step towards my liberation, but I know this isn’t over yet. I’ve only just managed to unleash the animal inside this man and I’m sure he plans to give me plenty more. And what’s worse, I want it. Best birthday present ever, if that’s what this is.

As if he could hear my thoughts I hear the click of a pen-knife and he releases my hands, pulling all the slivers of rope and electrical tape off me as he cuts. I jump up onto the sofa and look him straight in the face. He’s a handsome man, around thirty-five years old, with dark hair and a firm, square jaw. His trousers are still around his ankles and his cock bobs around, slowly losing its erection. My hands finally free, I take advantage of the situation. I lunge forward and push him hard in the chest, knocking him to his feet as he trips over his tangled-up jeans around his feet. I know I’ve got ten seconds maximum before he gets to his feet and manages to restrain me again, so I grab the nearest thing I can find, the heaviest-looking of a small pile of books that were at the end of the sofa. As he starts to stand, pulling up his jeans I hit him extremely hard on the side of his head and he falls back again. I’m not taking any chances though. I hit him again and again, a large gash appearing above his eye where I’d hit him the first time. He falls down, seemingly unconscious.

With no idea where my clothes are, I become extremely self-conscious again, knowing that when I escape from here, I’m likely to be in the middle of nowhere with no clothes and no way of contacting anyone. He’s still laying there on the floor by the sofa as I reach the stairs. As I get to the top, my hot pussy still dripping on the stairs beneath me, I turn and take one final look at this place where I’ve been held hostage. I’ve never experienced anything like this before; orgasm after orgasm. A veritable pleasure factory.

While it wasn’t nice to have been kidnapped in the first place, nothing was ever done to hurt me, it was all done to bring me pleasure, and I feel slightly guilty for loving those feelings. I want more, I need it. This is so wrong, why do I feel like this? I open the door that leads to my freedom but I hesitate. My pussy is still pulsating, and I know I have a decision to make that will change my life forever.

I close the door again. I stand there for a second, aware of the impact my next move will have on my life. I pause and take a deep breath, before I slowly begin the descent back down the steps, to where my captor lays unconscious on the floor. I bend down and touch his face. He’s out of it, but won’t be for long. He was never violent to me and although I knocked him out to facilitate my escape, he’ll be understanding. He must know how this situation would make a girl feel.

More importantly, when he wakes up I’ll explain it to him. I don’t want to leave this place. I want to feel everything I’ve felt these last few hours, but I want it every day. New sensations and endless pleasure.

This is my home now.

I’m staying.