I want you to be a perfect gentleman, and be actually interested in me.  Maybe we’ve gone on a couple dates already.  Maybe just one really good one.  You walk me back to your car at the end of the date since you picked me up, but instead of opening the passenger’s side door you open the door to the back seat.  I look at you hesitantly, but when you motion again for me to get in I follow your directions.  You get in behind me and pull me in for a kiss before telling me in a deep and commanding voice to turn around.  I listen, a little worried but mostly curious as to where you’re going with this.  You reach down and grab something reassuring me that I’m a good girl.  You pull my arms behind my back and my head drops forward, my breathing already becoming deregulated, realizing our power exchange is finally beginning.  You quickly tape my wrists together with a kind of tape I’m not aware of, but grateful to not experience the sticky painfulness of duct tape, and I gently moan.  You pull my elbows together and tape them as well, which was unnecessary but it somehow feels safer to be more tightly bound.

You pull me back to you and kiss my neck.  I start to turn to kiss you but you grab my shoulders and keep me facing forward.  Next I do hear the unmistakable sound of duct tape and quickly jerk my head around to see you smiling evilly at me.  You kiss my lips gently before placing the newly torn tape over my mouth.  I moan louder as if to make up for the muffling of the gag, my eyes looking up at you helplessly and slightly glazed over, barely aware any longer that we’re still in the parking lot of a public place.  You kiss my cheek and ask me if I’m going to be a good little slut for you tonight, and I nod back helplessly.  You tell me you know I will be as you pull the straps of my dress off my shoulders and pull my dress down, exposing my breasts.  You pull me onto your lap and pinch and play with my nipples.  Your hand finds my neck and chokes me tightly as your free hand roughly spreads my legs and makes its way up under my skirts, quickly finding my center.  You look at me with genuine surprise at how wet I’ve become and tell me what a fucking slut I must be to be dripping already just from being taped up. 

I can feel you getting harder even with the barrier of my dress and your pants, but you always act with such patience and resolve that I wonder how long it will be before you’ll allow me to even see you.  I’m right to wonder and you quickly tape my knees together, followed by my ankles and tell me to lie down on the back seat.  You tell me if I try to move the punishment will be severe and to not test you.  Dangerous words with me, as you know I love to test you and love to be punished, but being so helpless I’ll comply this time.  Really it’s mostly because I don’t want the police to potentially see a tied up girl in the back seat of your car and interrupt the awesome night I’m about to have.  As you leave me alone in the back and start driving to I don’t know where it occurs to me that it’s possible I’m in over my head, but I know I’m already half way to subspace and too turned on to care. 

The whole drive over I squirm anxiously, half just thrusting my hips at your absence and wishing you were there, and half legitimately concerned about what might happen.  Occasionally you look back at me in the rearview mirror and remind me to be a good girl and lay still.  I told you before my deepest fantasy is to be kidnapped and helpless yet still treasured and protected, and I’m sure you know just how much this is messing with my head.  I can usually pull myself up out of my hazy submission and set a boundary for how far I’m willing to go and how much I’m willing to give in.  But this time you’ve taken that away from me and are mercilessly pushing me towards the submission I’ve craved for years.  You’ve never asked me if I’m yours, you tell me that I am. 

We finally pull into your garage and you park the car.  You open the car door near my legs and pull out a pocket knife and cut the tape on my knees and ankles – that tape was never meant to be functional, only to push me deeper into helplessness.  I look at you with real fear as you know I hate knives, and you look back at me with an expression of exasperation, as if to say “did you really think I would cut you? After all that we’ve talked about? To break your trust now?” and I relax a bit.  You pull me out of the car and grab my hair, pulling roughly and forcing me towards the door to your home, still only half dressed and thoroughly bound. 

Once inside you drag and push me towards the kitchen table, grabbing a throw pillow from the couch on the way.  You throw the pillow to the ground and instruct me to kneel, which I do.  You sit across from me in a chair, reaching out to stroke my hair and face, occasionally slapping me.  You get up and pour yourself a glass of whiskey before returning to the table to wonder out loud what you should do with your new slut.  I can only stare at you eagerly, waiting for your decision. 

You wonder aloud if you should tie me to a spreader bar and whip me, and if I’d like that, to which I meekly nod yes.  Should you strap me down to a bench and flog me? Yes. Should you fuck my face and make me choke? Yes.  Should you choke me til I pass out and use my holes? Yes. Should you cum inside me and make me your little cum dump? Yes, yes, yes.  Do I want you to use me in any way you see fit? Please yes.  Gags? Yes.  Rope? Yes. Do I want you to hurt me? Yes.

You laugh. You tell me it’s going to be a long night, and pull me to my feet by my hair.  By the time we reach the top of the stairs leading to your bedroom I’m already flying.  I don’t care if you never take me home.  Please take care of me.