Taking her body was the easy part.
Several off us had gone out for drinks after work. She wasn’t a big drinker, but she agreed to come along. A little talking, some joking, some flirting … and I talked her into a second drink – the one I’d slippped a little something in.
Pretend to be the concerned friend, offer to take her home, and that was it. She was home. My home … our home now.
No, taking her body was easy. It was taking her mind that was going to take some work.
She was so goddamn innocent. Never caused any problems at work. Blushed when someone made the slightest inappropriate joke. Rarely cursed. Never showed too much shin. Never went home with the guys that tried to talk her up.
Oh, I’m not saying she was a virgin, the “waiting for marriage” type. She’d probably been with a guy or two – probably in college, probably guys she thought she loved. But, she was the type to have only ever “made love”, and to have never really been fucked.
It was written all over her. From her warm smile and the way she stood, to the way she dressed – conservative, professional. Clothes tight enough to show she had a figure to be admired, and she didn’t mind being admired, but selected to look cute, rather than sexy.
Which was a shame. I could tell she had the body for it. She was built to be an object of desire, an old world goddess of sex. She was built to make men want to ravage her in the streets, and she hid it behind a mask of propriety. An Easter morning facade, hiding a Mardi Gras body.
It drove me fucking insane.
I spent months fighting the urge to just take her. I lost sleep over it. Got yelled at by my boss at work because I couldn’t focus. Spent so many evenings outside her house, just imagining what it would be like if I snuck in. I took pictures, so many pictures. I watched through her window, just hoping to catch a peak of her.
It was obscene. I was a mess. Pathetic really. I just couldn’t get her out of my head. I couldn’t get over what a waste it was – her having a body like that, going unused, being kept from me.
So I took her. And I meticulously planned how I would turn her into the sex toy she was meant to be.
I didn’t fuck her while she was unconscious. Sure, it would have been satisfying in the moment, but it wouldn’t have gotten her to the place I needed her to be. Instead I stripped her, slowly, gently – like unwrapping the Christmas gift I’d stubbornly saved for last. I bound her wrists together and tied them to the bedpost over her head. I tied each of her ankles to a corner post, legs spread wide enough to make her feel vulnerable, but not so wide to be obscene. And I stuck an open gag in her mouth – it’s not the classiest of looks, but it is practical.
And then I waited for her to wake up.
It took for-fucking-ever.
Twice I climbed on top of her, let our flesh press against each other. Twice I positioned myself between her legs and marveled how she would feel once I entered her with a single thrust. But no. It was a foolish short cut. I could make myself wait. I had bigger plans than could be accomplished with a single violation.
And so I waited.
I was there, kneeling between her legs, watching, when she started to wake up. She was groggy at first, disoriented. I was rubbing both of her thighs, gently soothing her. She went through all of the regular stages: confusion, alarm, awareness, fear, realization, panic. But I had expected it, so I paid it no mind and went to work.
I slid my hands up her legs and over her hips, gently warming up her body. I ran them back down her thighs to her calves, and back up. Slowly. Seductively. Up. Down. Up. Down. Each loop moving further and further up her body, taking a different path ever time – exploring every inch of her body.
She tried to get away from me, but the ropes were tied tight and there was barely enough slack for her to move an inch. I ignored her protests and continued my exploration. I knew that even if she didn’t realize it then, I was treating her body the way it deserved. I was helping her become what she was meant to be.
Slowly I worked my way up her stomach to her breasts. I spent extra time with them, giving them the attention they were due. I cupped her breasts in my hands, massaged them, caressed them. I ran my hands over the sides of her breasts and underneath. Lifting. Squeezing. I ran my thumbs in little circles around her nipples, delighting in the feel of her, admiring how they responded to my touch.
I ran my hands over her shoulders, neck, and cupped her face – using my thumbs to wipe away her tears. I trailed my fingers back down to her neck and wrapped them around her throat. I squeezed, applying pressure to either side of her throat – cutting off the flow of blood to her brain. It would give her a dizzy, euphoric feeling, I was sure. I didn’t want her to hurt – pain is to be applied purposely, with specific intent – I just wanted her to understand just how powerless she was. I wanted her to let go of any sense of control she felt she had over herself. I wanted her to begin to realize that she was completely in my hands.
I spent maybe a half hour like that, touching every nook and cranny of her body. I made sure there was no part of her that I hadn’t explored, no part of her held back from me.
She enjoyed it. Oh, she didn’t realize she was enjoying it, but her body made it obvious to me. Her face was flushed, her nipples hard, and when I ran my hands between her legs I felt just how much her body was enjoying the attention. She was ready for the next step.
I started with some warm body oil, poured in a line down her stomach. With both hands I spread it all over her body: over her breasts, down her thighs, over her pussy.
I’d bought a few toys to give us plenty of options for the games we would play. I started with a vibrating wand and set it to the lightest setting. I massaged her breasts with one hand and ran the wand up and down her inner thighs.
God the sounds she was making.
I ran the wand up and down her pussy, teasing her clit just as I was teasing her nipples. Gradually I decreased my movements, narrowing the focus, intensifying the sensations. It didn’t take long. Like I said, her body was enjoying it. After only a few minutes her body was reacting, her hips were lifting, pushing herself harder into the wand, almost in spite of itself. The tension was high, and even if she couldn’t have understood why in that moment, her body was craving the release of completion.
So I turned the wand off.
I laid it on the bed beside her and started running my hands all over her body again. I wanted to get into her brain. I needed her weak and desperate. I needed her vulnerable so she would let me in.
I caressed her body for several minutes, carefully avoiding her most sensitive areas – I didn’t want to accidently make her cum – not yet.
When I thought she had settled enough I picked up the wand again. I repeated the process several times. Each time changing the intensity of the vibrating wand. Sometimes I avoided her pussy all together and just ran the vibrator over her breasts, stomach, and legs. Sometimes I cranked up the intensity and set the wand squarely on her clit.
I watched her face and her body closely, watching for any sign that she was about to cross the threshold. When I thought she was close I’d turn off the wand and go back to rubbing her body with my hands, occasionally adding more oil so her body was slick and glistening.
I didn’t say a word the entire time. I just played with her body, making her world one of sensation and pleasure. She wasn’t yet in a place to receive my words. Her mind wasn’t in the right place yet. That would come later.
It was a cruel, seductive torture – for both of us. My body was aching feel her. I wanted so bad to touch her with more than my hands, but I held off. I maintained my discipline and kept my focus on her.
For a while at least. Maybe around an hour. And then I couldn’t take it anymore. There were still parts of her I hadn’t yet explored – parts inside her I hadn’t yet touched. And I was literally throbbing to touch her more.
I pushed her to the edge one more time, and set the wand to the side. This time I didn’t run my hands over her body, instead I moved myself from between her legs. I crawled up until I was straddling her chest. She turned her head away from me, as if that would do any good.
She looked so fucking good like that. Her pretty face streaked with sweat, and tears, and saliva – and my hard dick resting on her cheek.
I held her head with both hands and turned her face toward me. I wanted to look her in the eyes as I pushed myself into her mouth for the first time, but her eyes were shut tight. No problem. There would be plenty of time for that later.
The beauty of the open gag, other than the obvious – muffling her cries and preventing her from biting – was I could just slip my dick right in her mouth. I didn’t have to hurt her to make her open her mouth. I just held her head still and slid my dick over her tongue.
It was probably a crude way of going about it, pulling her head back and forth, forcing her to suck my dick, but it was what she needed at the moment – what we both needed. She needed the violation and I needed the satisfaction. I made her bob her head slowly at fist, letting her get used to having me in her mouth, letting her taste me. But I was pretty keyed up and it didn’t take long for me to start getting impatient. I leaned over her body, pinning her head against the bed, and started thrusting my hips.
I wasn’t brutal about it. I didn’t slam my dick down her throat. There was plenty of time for that, and she wasn’t ready for it. I was sure it was the first time she’d ever been truly face fucked. I thrust myself into her mouth, over and over, letting my dick hit the back of her throat. She gagged a few times, but I was careful to not force myself down her throat yet.
The tension was building and I knew I could finish right there – her mouth felt so damn good – but I didn’t want the first time I came in her to be in her mouth. So, I pulled my dick out and slid myself down her body. I positioned myself between her legs, just as I had when she was asleep. I leaned into her and started gyrating my hips, letting my dick slide against her pussy. Between her saliva on my dick and the oil on her pussy, it was hard to tell how wet she really was, but I figured after all the attention I’d given her she was likely as ready for it as I was.
I pressed my tip against her entrance and slowly began to push into her as my hands slid over her stomach, breasts, and neck. She was a fucking marvel. So warm, and soft, and tight. She was excruciating beauty made flesh and my body rejoiced as I entered her.
I laid myself down flat on top of her, wrapping my arms around her head. I buried my face in hers, cheek to cheek, lips to ears, as I began to thrust into her. Again I started slow, almost gently. I ground myself into her, our bodies melding, becoming one. Gradually I increased my pace; filing her, stretching her, taking her. I worked her up to close to the place I wanted her to be, teaching her body how to take a fucking the way it was meant to.
Her body body was bouncing against the mattress as I slammed into her. Bouncing. Thrusting. Receiving. Pounding.
The angle was limiting. I needed more leverage. I needed to go harder, deeper. I needed her to learn how to take it right. I pushed myself up straight, and slid my knees underneath her, so her lower body was up in the air. I grabbed the wand off the bed and pressed it against her clit, clicking it to the highest setting. I held on to her hip with one hand and slammed into her again and again.
The room was filled with the sounds of our fucking; the hum of the vibrator, my grunting, her squealing, our flesh meeting together. It was chaos and beauty. Debasement and rapture. It was loss of control. It was falling into the rhythm of what was meant to be.
Her body caved first. With shrieks and convulsions the pleasure consumed her. I followed quickly behind. Exploding inside her with the ferocity of months of expectation. My hand slipped up her body and around her neck, holding her down, holding her still, ensuring she took the full intensity of months of restrained frustration.
She took it all, her body eager even if her mind was not – not quite yet anyways. And we collapsed together, both panting and exhausted.
I laid the wand back on the bed and sat myself up straight again. I massaged her thighs and gently worked myself inside her, milking the last bit of euphoria of being inside her. After a minute or two I let myself pull out of her and sat back on my feet. I trailed my fingers over her body for a moment, just enjoying the sight of her laid out on my bed.
Silently I climbed off the bed and walked to the kitchen. I needed a glass of water. I’m sure she needed one two. I would give her some time to relax and recover. I’d let her process all the emotions she would be feeling.
And then I’d start the process all over again. I had more games for us to play, more toys for us to try. I figured another day or two of this and she’d crack. Just a few days and I would have her mind. And from there I could start the next phase of my plan.
Once she gave me her mind, I could start working on taking her heart.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/11okumr/the_taking_nc_kidnapping_gentle_mf