Submit [M30/F20] [Kidnapped] [CNC] [BDSM]

Your eyes slowly flutter open. The world around you was spinning, and dark. Your body was numb, your head heavy. You try to move your arms, but they were locked behind you back- you couldn’t feel by what- only that there was something. You try to move your feet as well, but to no avail. Where were you? What was happening? Why was everything so dark? You try to call out- but it was hopeless- your voice was too quiet- too weak. 

Your head moved around aimlessly, looking for anything. But was that in the distance? A voice? Someone to help! The echoes grew louder, the clatter more discernible. You call out again to the voice, barely mustering a syllable. Your head stays down in disgrace. But then you heard them clearly. 

“The drugs should have worn off; she should be ready for inspection.” You hear, it was an official sounding male voice. The footsteps getting louder and louder. Then stop. 

You hear a slow creak, your head looking up. Only now could you make it out- there was something over your head. You couldn’t see clearly, only the shadow- the two shadows- at what you guessed, was the door. Your breathing becomes heavier as you try desperately to focus on them. You could barely keep your eyes open long enough. 

The door slams shut. The light disappears. You hear the echo of steel-capped boots against the floor. It wasn’t like at home, it wasn’t carpet or wooden laminated flooring. This sounded different. Harder. You turned your head to follow the noise, hoping it would speak, it would offer answers. But nothing. Just clicks against the ground that were getting louder and louder. Closer and closer. 

They stopped. The footsteps stopped. A single click of a switch is all you heard next; a blinding white shining across your covered face. It took your eyes a moment to adjust, you were seeing blurred spots dance across your vision. 

The footsteps started again, this time they were scarily close. They were ringing in your ears as you knew exactly where they were. Your breathing became heavier, your chest moving up and down faster. You try to move your hands, you try to mumble or shuffle, anything to move from where you were. The footsteps only getting louder and louder until they sounded like cymbals clashing. 

Then they stopped. Right in front. 

You could hear your pants. Your anxious pants. 

“I didn’t realise they brought a little puppy in. Don’t worry panting pup, everything is going to be okay.” You hear a voice say. It was unrecognisable, but the tone was soft… delicate. Like he could talk flowers into blooming during the spring. Your breaths became slower, almost instantly soothed by the sound. You try to respond, your bottom lip quivering. 

“No pet. You don’t need to speak right now. I’m just here to look…” The voice said softly, his hand brushing against the side of your face. You feel the back of his hand brushing against your cheeks, lifting the covering from your face. It was rolled so it rest on the bridge of your nose. Your eyes still unable to see properly. 

You feel his hands moving over your skin. You feel them grazing against your neck, two hands, calloused, gliding down your neck like it was taking measurements. “So petite, aren’t you?” He comments, running his hands across your collar bones and shoulders. His touch then leaves your body, you down feel it again until there is a graze against your thigh. His hand moving over your thigh, pressing into them firmly. You couldn’t fight back, no matter how much you wanted to. Your body wasn’t numb anymore, his hands were slowly bringing it back to life. But you felt weak, you felt useless. 

“You are perfect.” He whispers in a low growl, his tone vibrating through you. “Now put that voice to good use, what’s your name little pet?” His voice was still soft, how could he possibly have put you in this state- this weak, amiable state- with a voice that soft? 

Your bottom lip quivers, you try to say it. You try to push out just one syllable. “Little pet, you can tell me something as simple as your name, can’t you?” He asks again, along with his fingers stroking your cheek. 

You try again. This time letting out a whine as you can’t accomplish such a simple task. “I said speak!” He shouts, his voice sharp- cutting through you like a knife through butter. His hand still softly stroking against your cheek. 

It left, where did it go? Your body tensed, the harsh words from the strange man made you want to run away. Made you want to run to a dark corner and hide. But his hands, they were so soft, so gentle… the touch alone made you want to stay. Made you want to curl up into a ball and be cuddled like a little girl. But that touch was gone taken from you because you couldn’t complete a simple task. You failed. That was when you felt it. The sharpness. The heavy hit. That same gentle hand struck across your cheek like a hammer to a nail. Your ear started to ring. Your cheek burning as your head forcefully turned after impact. That was when you realised. When your whole body was no longer numb. One slap to send waves through your body. You were in a room, with a man you never met. Your ankles tied to the wooden legs of a chair; the rope so tight you could feel it marking your skin now. And your hands, they crossed over behind your back, both of them bound with more rope. Rope that looped around to your elbows. It was all coming back- images flashing through your mind. You were a prisoner. You were kidnapped. 

“Still nothing? Did the drugs make you forget your name, pathetic little pet. Can’t even remember the most basic information. Did we get a dumb one?” He says, placing his hand under your chin, his thumb over the front of it while the fingers spread across your jaw. He moved your head back towards the centre. “Don’t worry, I’ll give you a name. The only name you will answer to around here. It’s the name you will be woken up with, and the name you will fall asleep hearing.” He continues. “Do you know what that name is?” 

He pauses. You knew this was your chance to speak, his touch not impeding your ability to open and close your mouth. “N…n…” you stutter out, unable to get anywhere close to a word. 

“Speak clearly!” He yells again, striking you across the cheek before moving your head again. 

“N…n…n…” 

“Do not mumble!” He yells, his voice sharp each time. It was forcing your eyes to close and think to the times when you were being yelled at back home. You couldn’t linger on those thoughts though because there was always a hand striking against your face, the impact making your ears ring. 

“N…n…” your body was burning with warmth. It felt like you were on fire and the only place where it could be felt was on your cheek. You couldn’t see it, but there was an outline beginning to form. A handprint. A mark of your failure. Your incompetence. You couldn’t take it anymore; were you really this useless, it was a two letter word, why was it so hard. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, “N…no” you managed. 

“Finally! Took you long enough!” He comments. He keeps his hand on your chin, just like before. His touch was gentle this time, his voice starting to get softer. “You are my property. From this day on, you will answer to the name slut.” He says softly, his thumb moving to your bottom lip- gently rubbing against it. “Understand, slut?” 

Your head was still fuzzy, but you knew this was wrong. You knew that wasn’t your name and you certainly didn’t want to answer it. You stay there- still- defiant. 

“I asked you a question. Do you understand slut?” He says his tone dropping from sweet to serious. 

Your body squirm, your hands tried to move but nothing. There was something about his tone that made you uneasy- it was confusing. You felt his thumb leave your lip, sliding down to the side of your neck. In fact, you felt his firm hand around your neck. His fingers stroking along the sides, starting soft and each movement getting firmer and firmer. 

“I see. We do have a dumb one here.” he says, taking his free hand to your cheek. “Right, dumbslut, listen closely because I will only say this once. You belong to me now. Everything and anything I want- you will do! I don’t care what happens to you.” He pauses, and as he does you feel the hand around your throat tighten. Your breath catching midway. “I don’t care what bruises, cuts, burns, tears or marks I give you in the process. You will submit.” he says, stroking the glowing red cheek with the back of his fingers. “It can take days, weeks, months. But you will break. You will be my slut.” He pulls his hand away from your cheek, the same way he did before he slapped you the first time. “Do you understand, slut?” 

Your head was spinning. What was happening? You heard these words, but what could you do? You didn’t want any of this, but his rough hand excited you, his gentle hand comforted you. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe you could submit right now. No. This is not what you wanted. He’d let you go eventually; he’d get bored. You could hold out! This was it; you were going to be defiant. You didn’t answer to that name- you never would! I will not submit, you thought. 

“Pathetic.”  He growls, striking you across the face again, on the same cheek that was already used to it. This was different though, there was burning somewhere else. Your chest, your throat. Breathe. Just Breathe. Wait, why couldn’t you breathe? His hand, it was pressing so hard, so rough. I need to breathe, you think, your chest burning more intensely. It overshadowed the fact that when he slapped you, you turned your head so fast it left friction burn on your neck- which was being crushed. “Like I said slut, I will make you submit. Training begins tomorrow.” 

Those were the last words you heard. You still couldn’t see anything but the floating, blurry spots in your eyes. You were dazed. Your body was weak under his grip, you couldn’t resist even if you wanted to. Anytime you did, the rope just sunk into your sink more. Your head was spinning, spinning like you were stuck on a record player. It was only getting worse. The burning, the stinging, the dizziness. You couldn’t hold it anymore, your eyes burning as though you had onion rubbed into them. That was your first tear. It rolled down your cheek, feeling cool against the red handprint. It was the first sign that you were helpless. The second was your eyes closing, not because you were tired- no. You had passed out by his hand.

​

(This is my first time posting. There is more to this story, I guess just let me know if you want more?)

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/z5olq0/submit_m30f20_kidnapped_cnc_bdsm