Author's Note: Submitting Chapter 1 of damsel in distress story based on an Indian girl, and her paranoid boyfriend.


Chapter 1 - Confession and Confusion

It was a long weekend, and all I wanted to do was sleep peacefully in my cozy room. Finally the folks in the country were celebrating Diwali on Thursday, and thanks to them we had a 4-days holiday for the first time in many months. While others had plans to do amazing things, I was reluctant to even get out of my bed. After all, Ananya Salgaocar, never did anything that she didn't want to do. That's me. A little irritated and extremely tired, and definitely bored as hell.

Living miles away from home among people I hated and in a place I loathed was bad enough. To add to it there was this quarter life crisis - the weird feeling of being too old to have fun, and too young to take responsibilities. Yes, being 25 years old was the most terrifying thing that could happen to a girl in India. On one end, I was struggling at my job, and on the other my parents wanted to see me married. I worked for NIC (National Informatics Centre) the IT arm of Indian Government. I was posted in the port-city Goa - a famous tourist destination. The government had chosen it for the isolation and seclusion it provided. It was undoubtedly one of the best in the country. People craved to work for this firm. Yet on the inside it was as frustrating as any other job in the world. And to add to it, I worked on something important. Oh yes, I was working on a Portal that would be used by Government of India for issuing Passports and Visas. It came with a million rules, non-disclosure agreements and a thousand complex clauses to keep us from revealing the inside working of the software to anyone. The girl who wanted to be a journalist once; who dreamt of travelling the world, unveiling things unseen and unheard of, meeting new people, making mistakes, taking risks was now stuck in a completely safe, secure, risk-free permanent job of a Software Programmer.

The past week had been hectic and I really needed some quiet time. But my boyfriend wanted me to be with him. Yes, I had a boyfriend, or at least I convinced myself that I had him. And my boyfriend dearest was from the IT hub of Hyderabad. Compared to Goa I had hated Hyderabad even more. But I didn't have a choice. At times, it felt that my boyfriend was more interested in my work than in me. We had been together for almost 6 months and yet no one except a specific few close friends knew about us. We preferred to keep it that way, because having a boyfriend was still considered bad- and if a girl had dated too many guys, she'd be looked at as a slut. I never really cared about what people said, but it seemed that he did. He often travelled to my city on weekends, so that we could spend some time at my room. But this time, it was my turn. The one-night travel to his city irritated me, and I had half a mind to refuse. But for everything he had done for me, for all the pain he went through to meet me every time, I really felt indebted to him.

As Wednesday evening came, I let go of my reluctance and took a bus to his city and reached there the next morning. For most of the day we just lazed around watching movies, sleeping and chatting. He had brought my favorite vodka, and by the time it was 9 pm, I was already three shots down.

The vodka had its effect, and I felt buzzed and in that inebriated state I ended up revealing something that should have gone to my grave with me. Either way, the minute I said it, I wanted to take my words back. But it was too late. I was drunk, not him. He had heard me loud and clear and I could see his expressions change, as he grasped the meaning of what I had just said. I had kissed his best friend. Well, rather he had kissed me, or at least tried to. Yes, kissing is a big deal if you are dating in India. And sex? Well, it is ideally not supposed to happen before the two get married.

Even before I noticed my now-BF, I had noticed his best friend. The guy had a personality that invoked fear and respect at the same time. Reading 50 Shades of Gray reminded me that he was pretty much like the character Christian Gray. I had liked him in an instant, but didn't do anything about it, and then, when I started dating this guy, I started getting closer to his friend as well. Eventually we fell for each other, but I didn't have the guts to tell my BF. As an ideal BF he had been so honest, loving and caring that I could never tell him that I wanted to break up with him. And thus I spent my love on two ends, and one fine day ended up being force kissed by Mr. Gray when he was recovering from a bad hangover. He felt guilty and apologized a million times, and much later, I had told him, that I had actually enjoyed the kiss. Being forced by him, being straddled, and pushed against the wall, his lips touching mine...it was heavenly.

But in that moment, I felt bad about it. By now my boyfriend had already lost his temper, and was punching the wall. His anger was justified, but it scared me. When he said, he wanted to break up, I just lost it. Both of us had made many mistakes, and our relationship was in a mess, but I was not ready to let him go yet. A few minutes earlier he had told me that he wanted this to be a memorable weekend and he had a surprise planned for me at the end of it. Now, it seemed that all of it was going down the drain. I apologized again and again and told him he could punish me all he wanted, but a break up was not the solution.

Suddenly, with a smirk on his face he asked me if I really meant that he could punish me, and I just nodded. He smiled again, and said in that case I must do as he says for the next 24 hours. My first reaction was to tell him that if he intended to make love to me, I was not willing to lose my virginity yet. He could do whatever he wanted, but I was not going to have sex with him. At least, not until I was sure that we were going to marry each other. But surprisingly, he promised, he had no such intentions and thus I immediately agreed.

He seemed confused for a minute, probably surprised that I had so readily given up control. His next words came as a bigger surprise than what he had just demanded. "I don't trust you", he said. "You agree now, but you will forget it or ignore it later. Or worse, you will blame it all on the Vodka. That is what you always do. Deny everything as if it never happened, as if you never said or did anything. Hold on. I need proof."

With that statement, he drew out his phone, switched on the video recorder and held it so that the camera focused on me. Was he insane? I wanted to tell him, that this is what he always did. Whenever I gave him something he just asked for more. I always got exhausted from his endless demands and expectations. But this was not the time, I was the one who had cheated on him, so the least I could do was give him what he needed. "What the fuck do you want me to say?" I asked.

And to that he gave me the lines which I was supposed to speak verbatim. "State your name and age for the record." I got the cue and with a sarcastic smile on my face played along in his stupid game.

"I am Ananya Salgaocar, 25 years old. I am completely in a sane, conscious state. I am neither drunk, nor in any kind of stress or duress. I firmly confirm, that whatever happens next is completely out of my own will, and within my control at all times. No one except me is responsible for my actions and events that are to follow." There it was - spoken, recorded and saved. Saying it did come with a feeling of foreboding as if I was knowingly stepping into some dangerous, unpredictable task without comprehending the outcome. It seemed childish. But fine, what could happen anyway. How worse it could be? What could he do to punish me, I thought. Well, I was about to find out.

Suddenly, his tone had changed. The loving, carrying voice was replaced by a stern command. I was asked to freshen up and get into comfortable clothes. I had never taken orders from anyone, but for the moment I complied, collected my clothes from my bag and headed to the washroom in his bedroom. It was a relief to be alone for a while, as warm water fell on me, and my thoughts fleeted to what all he could do. I let go of the anticipation and decide to just let things happen. The bath had calmed my nerves and as I got into a loose gray t-shirt and shorts, I started looking forward to the next 24 hours. There was obviously a strange curiosity to find out what he had in store for me. He was running around the house, while talking on the phone. A black bag was lying in one corner, and he kept approaching it. It seemed as if he had prepared for this moment since a long time, and my confession had just preponed something that was going to happen anyway. With some difficulty, I controlled my curiosity to look into the bag, lest he should get all Hulk angry again. This time curiosity could actually kill the cat.

As soon as he saw me, he came up to me. His no nonsense attitude was evident, as he asked me to call up my family and tell them that I was out on a holiday and the cell reception wasn't good, and hence I would be contacting them 4 days later, once I returned to Goa. Fine, I did it. If that would give him the satisfaction that I was completely his, then so be it. I was his, at least for the weekend. He took away my phone and made me turn around and asked to close my eyes. As I did so, he held me by my shoulder and led me to the couch. Suddenly I was pushed down onto my stomach, as he pulled my hands behind me. I felt cold steel on my hands and heard the sounds of something clicking. In a flash, the scenes of someone being arrested flash in front of my eyes, and I realized that he had just handcuffed me.

I yelped, and started asking him to let me go. I tried telling him how much hated this kinky stuff and he should stop right away, or I was never going to talk to him again. But he was calm as a cucumber, and just reminded me that I had promised to do as he said for the next 24 hours. I stopped yelling at him, thinking his kinky side was fully activated, and it was wiser to play along. I struggled but the cuffs held tight, and to make matters worse he brought my flailing legs together and put cuffs around my ankles too.

This was too much. I looked back at him, angry as a bitch from hell, my hair covered half of my face, the pressure of my whole body was on my stomach, and the couch was hurting my breasts. I was about to hurl curses at him, when he pulled my hair and made me shout in pain. He clamped my mouth shut with his other hand. The mere feeling of his large strong hand over my lips made me go blank for a few seconds. As soon as I was quiet, the hand was replaced by a strip of tape. He neatly plastered the strip duct tape across my lips, as I came back to my senses, and realized that I was gagged. Gagged? How did I even know that word? Somehow, I knew it, and with that unimportant thought a feeling of fear swept over me and I trembled.

My brain was still processing what had just happened. He was well aware that I hated all these kinky things. I liked it rough, but at the same time I liked it natural. I enjoyed fighting him when we made out, but being tied up was always out of the picture. I was a free woman, and that's what mattered to me the most. I adored that ability to fight him, the chance to struggle, and to kick him and push him away whenever he tried to kiss me. We both enjoyed it - me being the wild cat and him being the tough guy. So, what had just happened right now? What the hell was he thinking?

He walked away as I was left alone to struggle against my bonds. I squirmed and thrashed and pulled at the cuffs. But all of it was futile. With much effort, I could turn on my side, and finally managed to sit up. I stood up and tried to walk, almost forgetting that my ankles were tied up too. In a single step, my balance was lost, and I crashed on the couch again. He was back in the room carrying a long, wide bag. It was the one he used for his cricket-kit. He put it on the floor, with the zip open, and approached me slowly. I tried to kick him with my cuffed feet, but he just caught my ankles in midair and slowly put them down on the floor. He lifted me in his arms and put me on the bag. This was utter non-sense, and I started yelling again, but the sounds that came out where extremely disappointing. I could hear myself say: "tooph it.eeme ooo...mmffff".

The last word mean "enough" which he simple ignored as, first my feet and then the rest of my body was pushed into the 5 feet long bag. I kept trying to get up but he pinned me down. In spite of the struggle, I was inside the bag, lying on my side, as he pushed my butt and twisted my legs, so that my back was curved, legs were bent and my knees almost touched my stomach. He had just packed up his 5 feet 5'11 inch tall girlfriend in his golf bag. Wow! What an achievement! Now what? He pulled the zip and suddenly I was plunged into darkness and stuck in that crammed space. Gradually I realized that there were small holes in that bag, so that I could breathe easily. You pack when you need to travel, so, where the hell did he intend to take me? No he wouldn't do anything so stupid and unsafe. This was probably just to put some fear in me, so that I would give up on my cursing, yelling and struggling. Once again, I realized I was wrong when he lifted the bag and started walking. Where To? I had no damn idea.

I paid attention to the directions and movements and figured that I was being carried out of the house, down the stairs, and in less than a few minutes put into the trunk of his car. Really? Was he kidnapping me? But what would be the point of it? Wait, did he intend to cast me away somewhere and abandon me? Was he that angry or had he just lost his mind? There was a lake nearby. Did he intend to put the bag out there and walk away from me for once and for all. With every bump on the road I crashed against the walls of the trunk, but it seemed as if all sides were padded with something soft. He still cared about me. No way he was going to handcuff me and ditch in some god forsaken place. That seemed impossible. I was so lost in my fears that I didn't even shout or scream. The tape stuck held my lips shut, while my face got covered in sweat, and tears fell through my eyes for the first time in ages. My breathing was getting heavier, and it felt as if I was going to pass out...


Chapter 2 - Ride To Revenge

A sudden jerk woke me up from my stupor. It could have been just a few minutes or several hours, I could not tell. After all, how can someone even fall asleep in trunk of a car - especially when she is crammed in a golf bag, hand-cuffed and gagged. Whether I had slept or passed out, I did not know that, but that short break from the millions of thoughts and fears racing through my mind, had given me some strength. He drove along as I adjusted to my condition. Tying me was one thing, but he had crossed the limits by gagging me and putting me in the trunk. It wasn't a punishment, it was an insult. I was an idiot if I didn't make him pay for this cruelty.

When the "road-trip" began, I had stayed quiet and almost unresponsive because of the shock. If I had started thrashing around and shouting through the tape right then, someone in his building or the society guard or even a passerby would have noticed and stopped him. But wait. Did I even want that? Being discovered like this meant a call to police and then names being asked and details getting dug up. My statement would be taken, and if I admitted that he had taken me by force, he would be jailed and prosecuted. If I denied it and then what could be a genuine explanation for being tied and gagged in a cricket-bag in your boyfriend's trunk? No, that would have been a very awkward situation for him as well as me. Or was that the right thing to do? Had I made the wrong choice by not reacting then and was I continuing that mistake by not reacting now? It was all twisted and confusing.

Out of the need to do something, but not able to conclude what to do, I yelled. The duct tape on my lips prevented lip movement but I could still make loud enough noise. With all the strength, I had, I began the ruckus by yelling at full volume.

What it sounded inside my head was similar to "Ahhhhhh!!" but what came out was " mmmmmmmmm - gulp - gulp -- mmmmm". The car slowed a little, so the sound must have reached his ears. Worth it! I checked my wrists and pulled at the handcuffs. They were meant to stay. Cold, hard steel brushing and rubbing against my delicate skin, like shackles of guilt and regret. My feet almost touched my hands and I realized that if I balled up a little more I could bring my hands forward. So, I crawled further in and brought my knees as close to my chin as I could, arched my shoulders backwards and stretched my arms straight. Taking in a deep breath through my nose, I pulled my hands forward. It worked! My left arm ached like hell, as I had been lying on my left side all the time. Having my hands in front, allowed me to shift my weight and get as comfortable as I could.

I clawed at my face with my hand, to find the corner of the tape sealing my lips. Finally, I found a corner, which was all wet from my sweat. It was good thing, because the wetness helped me rip off the tape from my lips with less damage. My mouth felt stick and dry, and my lips burnt from the tape's glue. It was obvious that this was the most that could be done for now, yet, an attempt to open the bag from within felt justified. Another few minutes passed in futile attempts to open the bag's zip, but there was no way out. It was surely locked from outside. Should I start yelling for help? No. No Police.

Bad Idea. Because after what seemed like almost half an hour the car stopped and I was carried up some stairs again before being put down. Being carried around in a bag felt even more uncomfortable than being held in a car-trunk. While leaving his home, I was so much in shock that I ignored what I felt, plus the distance from his ground floor flat to the car wasn't that much. But now I could focus on each and every step and it messed up my head. The bag, with me in it, swayed and turned as he walked. Despite his strength, he was having trouble hauling my ass, especially up the stairs. And the worst part was the feeling of weightlessness. Zero gravity as he moved. It made me nauseous and I started struggling and shouting. This needed to stop. If I didn't get out I was going to either faint, or puke, or maybe both. He just ignored my cries and kept going.

Finally, a door opened, he took me in and put the bag down on the hard floor. The zip opened and light rushed through the bag blinding me. I tried to breath in the fresh air eventually started coughing. That few seconds lost, took away the advantage I had. On recovering from the light exposure and the cough fit, I saw him looking at me with a smirk on his face.

I balled up my fist and punched him in the chest with both my hands, and yelled at him: "Enough is enough. This is complete non-sense. Remove this stupid cuffs now anmmmmphhhh ."

In a lighting fast movement his one hand was clamped on my mouth and the other held my hands. It was a huge hand and covered not just my lips, but my nose too. It was crushing my lower face so hard that I could hardly breathe. While all my concentration was on breathing, he removed his hand and replaced it with the strip of duct tape that lay discarded in the bag.

It was almost pointless and ineffective, but he seemed to be aware of that, as he lifted me out and made me sit on a chair. I felt dazed and tried to breathe in heavily through my nose. My nostril flared and muscles ached as I recovered from the suffocating trip. A few minutes passed by before I had completely stopped struggling and finally took in the surroundings. It was a small dimly lit room furnished with a huge bed in the center and a large mirror right opposite me. He had made me sit on a straight backed chair which creaked as I was pushed on it. While he continued to work on me, I stared at the mirror for a moment longer, shocked at the reflection my disheveled state. Was it really me?

While I stared at my own reflection in disbelief, my dearest boyfriend got busy taping my left wrist to the chair. The ripping sound brought me back to reality and the pain caused by the tape pulling at my skin made me shriek. One wrist was taped to the chair's armrest with layers of duct tape, while other wrist, still cuffed, was lying useless on my lap. The smart ass was down on his knees taping my left ankle to the chair's leg. In all my stupidity, I tried to kick him with my right foot thinking it was free, but unfortunately it was still cuffed and attached to the other ankle. I could see him laughing as he produced the hand cuff keys from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs. As soon as the click sound came I tried to kick him again, but obviously, he had anticipated it.

He swiftly caught my foot, pushed it to the chair's leg and wrapped it in tape, making it impossible to attempt another kick. He rose upwards and proceeded to binding my legs together, with layers of tape above the knees holding my thighs squished tight. I was trying to pull away but the tape held my feet a little above the floor, and dug deep into my skin. I wished I had worn my track pants instead of shorts because this tape was surely going to hurt my skin pretty bad. He went behind me, and started wrapping tape around my waist, securing it to the chair's backrest. Last came the right wrist which was uncuffed and taped too. All this time I was focused on my taped lips and kept moving and pursing them until I had managed to loosen the old strip of tape and it dangled from the side of my mouth.

I asked him calmly, "Where the hell are we? Stop it and let's just get home."

But he just smiled and said "You will understand soon".

With that a large strip was torn off from the roll and applied to my mouth, once again sealing my lips shut. Now I knew I could shout and make a hell lot of noise, after all, a single strip could silence a woman only in movies and Hindi television serials. I guess that was the idea, the symbolism of having your lips taped. The kidnapped person won't even try to make noise, just because she knows that her lips have been sealed.

What was the point, anyway? No matter how I looked or what I said, he had agenda in his head, and he was going to see it through. I was held tight to the chair, and it was impossible to move, no matter how much I shuffled or pulled. The tape around my waist was the worst because it held me in a straight sitting position with no room for adjustment or comfort. In all this time, he had hardly spoken 10 words. The bastard was not letting me onto anything, and leaving me out in the dark to do all the guess work, because he knew, that curiosity was my biggest virtue and my worst vice. It drove me nuts, and yet, kept me going, no matter how bad things ever got. He settled down on the bed and dialed a number on his phone but hung up without talking. That was weird. Was this some cheap hotel room? Did he bring me here so that he could have his way with me without his neighbors hearing the ruckus?

I gasped as a woman entered the room. The door was right next to the chair, so from where I sat I couldn't see her face. She didn't even look in my direction and just walked to the bed. Her manner was sophisticated, and she did seem like a woman who knew her style. Seeing her back triggered a memory but I could not recollect whether I had seen her before or not. Maybe she was a hooker he had hired for the night. I couldn't help but notice that she looked elegant. She wore a black tight knee-length skirt and a white shirt. In spite of my predicament, I could not help admiring the beauty of her body. She had the perfect hour glass figure and a smooth skin. Her face must have been pretty too because my boyfriend was delighted to see her.

It seemed he knew her quite well and this want their first rodeo. My natural reaction was to compare her with myself. I was 5 feet 6 inches tall, had a wheatish complex and weighed 55 kgs. With a figure of 32-24-34, I came across as a strong, attractive long-haired brunette. My broad shoulders gave me a certain air of masculinity and the 32B breast made it even worse. All my exes had found me rough, tough and sexy in a particular way, and I agreed to them. I was not a fragile, delicate damsel, nor was I a complete cowboy. No matter whether I wore a salwar-kameez, a saree or a skirt, some heads surely turned as I passed. But all of it was nothing compared to the delicate woman whose back was turned to me and, arms were wrapped around my boyfriend.

They hugged each other and soon were locked into a deep kiss. My brain just couldn't process what was happening. I was just too shocked to react. While I was taped to this stupid chair, he was making out with a hooker? And was the kissing just the beginning or maybe this was just a guest appearance and she would possibly leave in a few minutes? Well, I was about to find out.


Chapter 3 - Pervert Pleasure

Being taped up to the chair intensified my anger and restlessness. No matter how much I pulled, the tape won't come loose, and all attempts to yell had led to the tape on my lips chaffing at my skin. All this while my boyfriend and his whore had been so engrossed in each other that it seemed I did not even exist. I tried shutting my eyes closes, but ended up opening them again. Curiosity was killing me. I had to watch this through. He started kissing her all over her body and she kissed him back. As the intensity of their make out increased, I violently struggled against my bonds.

I was shouting continuously through the gag, asking him stop right away. All I wanted to do is go up there and hold the bitch by her hair and throw her out of the room. My screams of "nooo...stop it." just came out as loud mmphs and grunts.

Thankfully, the noise I made distracted them, and they abruptly stopped. Was it over? Probably not. The woman stood up from the bed, and put her hands beneath her skirt. At first I could not understand what she was doing. It seemed like a stupid, filthy thing to do. But no, I was the one being stupid.

She bent low and pulled down her panties, and out came a thin black thong. She let it drop to the floor and stepped out of it. While I still didn't get the aim behind doing it, my boyfriend got up, and picked up her panties, kissed her on the lips and started walking towards me, balling up the cloth in his hands as he got closer. I looked away from him out of utter disgust, but he held my chin and made me look at him. The wadded-up panties were brought closed to my taped lips and that's when I finally grasped, what the woman had actually intended. I started saying "No. Please. No. Not that." But it all came out as a garbled crap. Taped lips meant no air could escape my mouth, so almost all noises I made from the throat, ended on the edge of my tongue in warped speech. Something like "mm meaaaa."

He ripped the tape from my lips, making me shout again in pain. As soon as my mouth opened, he rammed the wad in. With one hand, he applied pressure on my jaws, and with other he pushed the panties past my teeth, deep into my oral cavity. They were wet, and as soon as the cloth touched my palate, my gag reflex kicked in and I started coughing. But he didn't let go. The big hand remained clamped on my lips as tape was torn off again and plastered, holding the soiled panties in my mouth.

My coughing stopped, and was replaced by angry shouts which came out as mere squeals. Their trick had worked. Stuffing my mouth ensured, that the sound I made, could not be loud enough to disturb them. In fact, from the look on his face, and the bulge on his crotch, I was assured that my gagged screams were turning him on. Using the panties that she was wearing was the ultimate blow to my self respect. It was soft silk, and I was confident that they were wet even before they went into my mouth. It felt disgusting. I wanted to vomit there and then. Ananya Salgaocar, who wouldn't even touch something like this, was holding someone else's undergarment in her mouth. Yuck!

They resumed the kissing as I watched on helplessly. My eyes glared at them and I swore that I was going to slap that bitch really bad, the minute I got free. They undressed each other in a slow, seductive manner, and when he put his hand on her back to unclasp her bra, I just couldn't watch anymore. I started thrashing and jumping in the chair, making as much noise as I could, mewling through the panties no matter how stupid and fruitless it seemed. This had to stop, that was all I knew. He had never could unclasp my bra hook in a single shot, and I had never undressed him or removed his pants so efficiently and seductively. This bitch was a pro at what she was doing and they had definitely done this before. I could not figure out which was worse. Seeing them making out, or realizing that she was better than me in every possible way.

My ruckus interrupted them again and he got up - just in his briefs, his erection under the white brief clearly visible - and once again walked to the edge of the bed. Her bra was lying below the bedpost, black, laced and thin, somewhat matching to the panties now in my mouth. She was still lying on the bed, in her skirt and top, but no underwear. I could see her flowing hair, trimmed waist and curvaceous ass. She hummed slowly while fiddling with her legs, while my boyfriend approached me with the Bra in his hands. I was so disgusted and frustrated, that his face was the last thing I wanted to look at. But just with a pressure of two fingers on my chin, he managed to make me look into his eyes. Once again there was that crazy look and a wide mischievous smile, as he straightened out the bra, turned it upside down and positioned the bra cups over my eyes. I just kept staring at him, as he put the bra cups on my eyes, so that, the cleavage was right above my nose bone and then tied the bra-straps behind my head.

Satisfied with his work, he tightened the straps a bit more and knotted them together. I had a good idea of how I must have looked with the bra-blindfold over my eyes, and duct tape over my lips. Like a bloody lingerie showcase. The cups didn't touch my eyes, but they did the job of preventing me from seeing anything. Even if I turned my head around, or lowered it, I could just see the floor or the ceiling. It was thin enough to let light penetrate and yet thick enough to stop me from seeing anything else. Her panties in my mouth, her bra over my eyes, what next? Her socks in my ears or probably in my vagina and asshole? Fucking bastards!!

For a minute, the idea of being blindfolded was quite relieving. At least, now I didn't have to look at their make out session. But after a while, my impatience grew as the pch pch of kissing and slurping continued, accompanied with their giggles and Ahs and oohs. It was overwhelming. I tried to imagine myself in her place, making out with my boyfriend, while she stayed trussed up on the chair. No, it was not possible. I couldn't even imagine doing something like that to another woman, no matter how much I hated her. But this guys had crossed all possible limits. It was mental torture and physical abuse, and my helplessness was breaking me down from within. Never ever in my life, had I felt so helpless, so worthless. Just a piece of trash or a furniture item stacked up in the corner of the room, that's all I was to them.

There was silence again, followed by sounds of a wardrobe being opened up, the shadows moved and I felt someone walking towards me. Soft, small hands gripped my jaws and twisted and turned my head. It was her. She grabbed a bunch of my hair and yanked at them making me look up. It hurt so bad, that I squealed like a cat. The other hand was now on my taped mouth, tightly pushing against my face, smothering my squeals. I gulped, and the thin, wet panty slipped deeper into my mouth, almost touching the throat, kicking up my gag reflex. She let go of the grip on my hair and let me regain my composure. I needed water, and I needed those wet panties out of my mouth. I would even promise to keep quiet, if they just pulled it out. I was done trying, done fighting and just wanted a moment of unrestrained peace.

But that was a luxury was too far-fetched. Her hands moved to my chest, fingers crawling over my breasts, suddenly pinching my nipples so hard I squawked like never before: "um mmukin mhore." But that just made her laugh hysterically. And I suddenly realized her voice was as sexy as her body.

Never ever had a woman touched me like that. The pinch was followed by hands writhing inside my t-shirt, under my bra, reaching down to my now erect nipples. Her soft fingers played with both my breasts simultaneously. A tickling, sensuous touch that was full of mischief and malice. Long nails encircled my nipples and carved through the skin of my soft small boobs. And then suddenly again a pinch. The whole process repeated thrice leaving me moaning and groaning, awakening something I had never felt before. My make outs with the guys did turn me on, but a feather soft sensuous touch such as this was and unimaginable arousing pleasure, as well as an unbearable torment. She was playing with me and I could do nothing about it. I could sense that she was enjoying herself as she continued the finger-boob torture, while my boyfriend was just sitting there and enjoying the show. Finally, she stopped for a second and the next moment something soft, slimy and thin was thrust at my nostrils. I could smell chocolate. Shit! It was a condom. She rubbed the condom across my cheeks and my nostrils filling them up with the smell of chocolate essence.

I twisted and turned to shake her off, but she continued relentlessly, until my boyfriend calmly said, "Come on. Get your sexy ass over here." The condom was gone but something plastic and thin was thrust in my cleavage. The condom wrapper, I guessed. So that was what I was to her. Trash bin. Confirmed.

I kicked and squealed, and tried to get up. But it was futile. For some long devastating minutes, I could hear them making out and I was sure they even had sex. I heard sounds of ecstasy, laughs and moans. I had just kissed a guy and felt really guilty about it. But the punishment of being restrained and made to watch my boyfriend making out with another woman, hearing them making love while being trussed up on a stupid chair was the worst possible thing a guy could ever do to his girlfriend. I felt broken and angry at the same time. A part of wanted to slap him hard and leave him forever as soon as I was released from this damned place. And a part of me craved to be kissed by him, to be in his arms again. To be as close to him as the woman was.

I didn't realize when I had started crying. Even the tears ended up in the bra-blindfold, making it wet. Hearing all those sounds, had awakened an irreplaceable desire in me. The butterflies in my stomach were unleashed and as their moans intensified, my crotch grew wetter. Shit! Hearing them was turning me on. Combined with my plight, it was making me wild and horny as hell. Fuck anger, fuck the betrayal. I just wanted him so much that I could forget everything that was done so far, just to be kissed by him. For the first time, I actually wanted to lose my virginity and have sex. With him. Him and only him and no one else. Out of the blue, I had turned into a depraved and degraded soul, who was ruled only by lust and desire. That was the effect of being forced to hear him fuck his whore. I yearned to see them. I so much wanted to shake of the bra off my eyes, that I launched the ruckus of moving, thrashing and swirling my head again.

Suddenly the sounds ended with a muffled shriek from the woman, and curiosity made me halt my commotion too. I listened hard for a hint of what was coming next. All I could hear was loud panting coming from where the bed was. Ah, an orgasm had been reached. He had probably muffled her scream of pleasure. There was movement, and then sudden flash of light that fell on my blindfolded eyes which ensured me that someone had just clicked my picture. It seemed like they had satisfied all their desires and where proceeding to whatever was next on the agenda. Probably she was the one who clicked my picture as a reminder of her success in humiliating her lover's girlfriend. His shadow was over me again, as he put another strip of tape on my sealed lips. Earphones were inserted in both my ears, and a phone was dropped on my lap. Music? Right now? What non-sense?

Well, it made sense. Because what played through the earphones was not music. It was the noise and sounds captured in the past hour. That of their kissing, my mmphing, and moaning. He had recorded it all and the same thing was now playing in my head making me relive the torment again. Between the noise there were a few moments of silence, and that is when I could hear them talking in hushed tones. Before I could focus enough to decipher the conversation another moan or squeal would erupt through the earphones again. It was all there, and my squeals and gagged speech were a contrast to their moans of ecstasy. What I felt listening to my own hampered speech was unbelievable. It was like angry cat stuck in the tree, squealing for help. And yet, for a micro-second, I felt good that it was sexy enough to turn him on. That idea turned me on even more. The helplessness, the frenzy, the struggle, the sounds in my ears. All that drove me crazy and made me wet down there.

After what felt like an eternity of halted silence, I felt the tape at my thighs and legs being cut off, while my hands and arms still remained taped up. The gag and blindfold remained too, as I was once again roughly lowered to the floor and packed into the golf bag again. Seemed like the woman had left, but she had forgotten her panties in my mouth, and her bra on my eyes. This was 10 times more uncomfortable than the handcuffs, and If he had allowed me to speak I would have requested him to untie me, and allow me to sit on the front seat with him. All this was uncalled for. If he wanted revenge, he should have told me straight away. And I would have probably agreed to sit quietly and watch, as he made out with another woman. After all, I had promised him that I would do as he asked for 24 hours.

Had he forgotten that a few months back, I had agreed to accompany him to a female strip club and let him have fun, while I sat there sipping wine. I called it Pervert Pleasure, and though it never really happened, yet the fact remained, that I had agreed to it then. I might have agreed to this now. What did he intend to achieve by all this? The rough treatment, tying me up, those soiled panties stuffed in my mouth, the bra-blindfold. Was humiliating me like this and hurting my self-respect, so easy for him?


Chapter 4 - Lessons Learnt

Still tape tied, thong-gagged and bra-blindfolded, I lay in the golf bag, while he dragged me out of the dimly lit room. Unable to move, aching with pain and thirsty as hell, I could feel the frictional heat on my skin because of being dragged. What he and his whore had done to me, was unforgivable in so many ways, I could not imagine. On the road trip to this place, while being trussed up in the trunk I had a chance to yell, scream and attract attention. I should have done that. Instead I stayed stuck to maintaining an uneventful journey, so that he would not undergo any troubles with the police or the passersby.

But not this time. The journey back home was going to teach him a lesson he would never forget. I convinced myself that this wasn't my boyfriend, or someone I knew or cared about. He was random stranger. Probably, a burglar who had kidnapped me from my boyfriend's house. His intentions? I didn't know. Rape or ransom or probably to sell me off, each equally worse than the other. That's it. That's all he was now. And how should a girl react when she has been kidnapped by a stranger for any of the above purposes? With an anger that rises from fear, with a relentless effort to free herself, and with no care or worry for what might be the outcome. Yes! That is exactly I was going to react.

Several doors opened and closed, while I was dragged, lifted, turned about and then finally placed on rest. What I felt beneath me wasn't the hard surface of the trunk, it was soft, and there was more air to breath. There was no suffocation nor any banging across walls, and I concurred that this time I will be travelling in the backseat of the car. Good for me, bad for him, because I was in a mood to make this trip a hell for him. I let the car start and waited for another 5-10 minutes, before beginning my planned and controlled ruckus. The thong stuffed in my mouth was so wet, it had reduced to a small wad of mess, leaving room for air in my oral cavity.

Taking a deep breath, I started yelling as loudly as I could. No specific words were necessary, no shouts for "help" or "let me go". Just pure screams, rising form the throat and ending in the taped lips. Simultaneously, I started hitting the door with my feet, and moving my torso back and forth as much as I could. I paused to see if there was any effect. Well there was, but not in my favor. He turned up the music on his stereo and it subdued my screams. Yet, I was not so easily discouraged, and continued the screams and the door-thrashing with as much vigor as I could muster. And then suddenly, the car screeched to a halt. Yay!!

Doors opened and closed, I felt being lifted and then dropped again, not in the trunk, but on the floor. His sedan had enough legroom to accommodate the golf bag with me in it, on the floor. I resumed my thrashing, until I heard a feminine voice, "What the fuck?"

What the fuck indeed, for that voice was of his whore, and until that moment I had no idea she was in the car too. The car started again, and the zip was slightly opened, small hands were on my taped mouth again, and feet were on my bum. She was on the backseat now, which infuriated me even further. Is creamed through her palm, and instantly received a hard slap on my face. The zip was closed again, and almost immediately I felt something heavy being dumped on me. The blankets from the trunk - one by one were laid out on the bag, and above them she rested her tiny feet. One on my ass, and the other on my face, crushing my nose and mouth. There was no room to move, and even if I struggled, a passer-by or a car next to ours, would never realize that there was tied up girl beneath this woman's feet. With that all my planning and resolve got kicked in the butt. Literally.

Rest of the journey remained largely uneventful, except my continuous attempts to re-adjust my position, as being stationery was impossible, considering the state I was in. Finally, the crazy ride was over, and from all the turns he had taken, I was confident that we were back in his bedroom. Yet, I was still crammed up in the bag. It had been more than a few minutes, but he hadn't taken the pain of unzipping the bag and getting me out. My arms and shoulder ached from lying in that balled up position. The tape stuck so tight that I feared my skin would come off when it was finally ripped off. I could hear sounds of him shuffling around, of something heavy being moved, and the smell of cigarettes. He was smoking, right now? Having his cigarette was more important than releasing me from the bag. I tried to shout, but the black panties had soaked up my saliva, leaving my mouth and throat dry. One thing was for sure, I was going throw those panties right at his smug face as soon as he untied my hands.

I was imagining myself doing that, when finally, the zip opened, but the bra-blindfold made sure that I couldn't see a thing. He lifted me up and held me as I tried to stand. I had no control over my legs, and it took a while before I could stand steadily. He undid the blindfold's knot, breaking of a few strands of my hair, making me grunt in anger. Scissors snipped around my waist, breasts and wrists, tearing the tape apart. Most of it was still stuck to my hands and my t-shirt but at least my hands were free. With that he just walked away. Slowly I removed the tape from my lips, and then pulled out the panties from my mouth. They were all wet and stinky and as they came out of my mouth, I got a retching feeling. Somehow, I controlled it and turned around and threw them right at his face.

He looked at me with a blank expression, not even uttering a single word, offered me a water bottle and I quickly drank up almost half of it. There was no shame in his eyes, just some weird determination to do what he had planned. Either way, score 1. At least I had successfully done one thing that I had decided. Now it was time for the second. He had dragged the wooden table away from the wall, and emptied it of all the books and files that he kept on it. I walked past him, pushing him out of my way, right to the corner where I had kept my overnight bag.

Grabbing my purse from the bed, I took my bag and walked out of the room. I was not even going to change my clothes. Wearing my coat would be enough. On my way, out, I noticed the wall clock which had just struck at 2am. 10pm to 2am. Four hours had gone in all this crap, and he still had 20 hours more to do as he wished. But I had had my fill and I was walking away from him then and there. Do hell with guilt and the punishment. He was standing at the door blocking my way.

We stood face to face and finally he spoke up: "You are not going anywhere. Its 2 am anyway, and there is no reason to walk away right now. Let's finish what you started, after all we won't be getting this chance ever again."

I just pushed him hard, making him fall back to the couch, and walked out. I didn't pay much attention to what he had just said, though, much later, I was going to find out what his every word and every action had really meant.

I was about to take my coat from the living room, when suddenly I was gripped from behind. His left hand was wrapped around my chest in a vice like grip, while the right hand was once again clamped at my mouth. He weighed 100 kgs, which was almost double of what I did, and he had a bull's strength as well as stubbornness. I had often even called him bull-headed. The shock and surprise had made me drop my bag and purse. I tried to pull away his arm from my chest, with both my hands, but he didn't budge, no matter how hard I pulled, clawed or gnawed. The hand clamping my mouth was so tight that I couldn't event part my lips to bite him. One of his fingers and the thumb, were used to pinch my nose, while the other four fingers and palm, covered my lips - making it impossible for me to breathe. My chest heaved as I tried to breath, and I could feel his crotch pressed against my butt. Holding me like this was giving him an erection. He dragged me back towards the bedroom as I continued kicking at his feet and legs. The man felt no pain at all, or even if he did feel it, it wasn't bad enough to make him let go off me. The pervert was getting his kicks out of making me suffer.

Once we were in the bedroom, he pushed me onto the table, picked up my scarf, that might have dropped from my purse, from the floor and came back to me. I had just steadied myself, when the black band appeared in front of my face. I was about to yell "Fuck off" when the scarf was pulled between my lips and tied around my head. The soft black silk was now filling my mouth, holding my tongue down, keeping my teeth and lips apart effectively shutting off any sensible sound. The scarf was gifted by him, and was among one of my favorites. As soon as this shit was over, I was surely going to burn it down. What I said next and the curses I hurled at him, came out as garbled speech. The gag allowed me to make enough noise, but prevented any meaningful words.

I could remember, that in Bollywood movies and Hindi TV serials, it was the most common way used to silence the kidnapped actress. Her dupatta or scarf pulled between her lips rendered her so helpless that she couldn't even alert the hero who stood a few feet away. From my current condition and newly acquired experience, I could testify that it was completely fake and stupid - apart from the fact that it made the actress look very hot. With just a cloth between the lips, the damsel could easily attract all the attention she needed to get free. In my case, though, it was irrelevant since my hero was my villain as well. As compared to the tape and stuffed panties, this was something I could bear.

Plus, this permitted being kissed. Ever since I had seen him make out with the woman, I was craving for a soft, deep kiss. Should I turn around and kiss him with my gagged lips? Was I too looking hot right now? Shit, what the hell was I thinking. Suddenly, I felt ashamed at my own thoughts. Instead of fighting off I had wasted precious moments pondering over something so stupid and unimportant. "Kidnapped actresses in Movies" deserved a google search, but obviously not right now.

Meanwhile he had rushed to his black bag that probably contained all the tools being used to humiliate me. Once again, I was pushed back on the table while he pulled my hands behind me and put back the handcuffs on my wrist. Not again! How the hell did he even have handcuffs? Which normal human being kept a pair of handcuffs in his room? The table was half of my height, and as he pushed me and adjusted my position, I realized that he had made me bend down such that my butt was exposed to him. He came near my face, making me anticipate a kiss. But instead of that, I saw him holding a long white rope. The rope was passed under my armpits, taken around my back and brought back to the front again - such that, the loop was right above my breasts.

He tied a knot in the center, and allowed the rest of the rope to fall off, and went to my rear side again. I couldn't understand what he intended to do. I tried to stand again but suddenly felt my chest being pulled down. He was holding the rope from under the table and pulling at it. My breasts were squeezed against the surface, while my shoulder and face hung in the air. I strained to look back and saw him standing on the taut rope. His hands touched my waist and then I felt my shorts being unbuttoned as he started pulling the shorts down. They fell to my feet, and then he pulled at my panties too. I was wearing white lacy panties, one which he really liked, and had always found me super-hot whenever I wore just my white laced camisole and these panties.

I shouted "Donnn do dathh". But he didn't listen. My legs were lifted one by one, and the shorts and panties were cast aside. With a few snips at my t-shirt, it was torn and ripped off my body too, so that I was left in nothing but my white bra.

To make matters worse, I suddenly felt something soft at my crotch. I turned my head around as much as I could and saw him pulling the rope between my legs, from beneath the table. It went between my butt-crack, also touching my vagina, trapping the pubic hair with it. The rope was held just above my butt, as he passed it around my waist and tied it into a tight knot, while the remaining rope was connected to the loop encircling my chest. The knot pressed into my back, and the tightness made me feel that my body was going to be ripped in two pieces. I tried to raise my body, which just made me the rope dig deeper into me. So, this was his idea all along.

Even a little movement caused pressure near my chest, and pulled at the rope. It felt weird and super uncomfortable to have something right between my ass cheeks. The pain made me forget all the thoughts about how I looked or about kissing him. When he came forward and tried to kiss my lips, I just banged my head against his forehead. Once again, his expression turned into anger. He stormed off and came back with a knife and used it to tear my t-shirt apart. Within a minute, he had pulled the torn t-shirt from beneath me, exposing my white bra. He lighted a cigarette and stood there watching me struggling and squirming. With every struggle the rope brushed against my vagina, and I realized that my crotch was getting wet. Lying there naked, with my butt exposed to him was bad enough, but I knew there was more to come.

I was lost in my struggles, hoping deep down that he wouldn't notice the wetness between my legs. What was happening? Was I getting turned on too from my current state? Or was I still under the craving that had started after seeing them make out. How could being helpless, naked and embarrassed turn me on? It seemed completely illogical. Smack! My reverie was interrupted by a sharp smack on my right butt cheek. Then another and another. With each slap on the butt, I yelped. Did he just spank me? Shit. He had adjusted this position all along with the purpose of spanking me. Before I could get a hold on my senses, another smack came hard on my left butt cheek. It literally made me jump. I squealed as more and more slaps came along.

At times, he would hit super-hard. Then he would switch to short smacks back-to-back in a quick succession. The random method made sure that I was never hit at the same place twice and I was never prepared for what came next. Ahhhhhhhh. Another one.

"You are enjoying this aren't you, Miss Steele? You thought he was like Christian Gray. Well, here's some 50 shades for you. For starters, your butt is a nice shade of red."

Shit. How the fuck did he know that I had called his best friend as Christian Gray. He must have read the chats on my phone again, and now he was acting out on me out of jealousy. Finally, I got an insight on his thought process. "nooooo.i dinnn ean ihhht." I wanted to tell him, that I didn't really mean that.

But he just ignored that. "I know you like the idea of being spanked. Like Kate Winslet in The Dangerous Method? Yes, Ananya. I know it all."

The Dangerous Method was among my favorite movies. Much like her, I had never experienced sex, nor did I ever watch porn. I had always been a stubborn girl, always saying out loud whatever the hell came to mind, often disrespecting those around me. I knew there were countless occasions when I had insulted him. And the idea of being spanked as a punishment for being a bad girl seemed to turn me on. Or at least that's what I thought. He was bang on target, because I could feel dampness between my legs. As if he had just read my mind, he put his finger under the rope and touched right near my vagina.

Fuck. Amidst being table-tied and being split in two halves by the ropes, there was the stinging pain on my bums, and now the damned wet crotch. This was just going to encourage him more.


Chapter 5 - Shock and Surprise

The rope and my thighs, both were indeed wet. He saw this and remarked matter-of-factly, "So, you are really enjoying this, aren't you?"

All I could reply with was an embarrassed "mmmmm."

The spanking continued first with his hands, and then with his TT bat. The bat struck me at random, everywhere from my butt cheeks to my thighs. Between that he would pinch my butt cheeks now and then, making me squeal aloud. When he finally he came to the front I could see his erection. All the smacks and slaps had turned him on too. I wanted to ask if he could allow me to spank him now, but resisted the temptation. The short relief, made me realize that my ass was literally on fire. It must have been red by now, and I was surely going to regret all of this when I had to sit down later.

There was certain desperation in his actions. I hadn't noticed it before, but during the day while we were lazing around watching movies in his room, even then he seemed quite anxious. Like always, we were on his bed (completely dressed) , watching one of our favorite movies, and then some episodes from Friends that I loved. While all my concentration was on the screen, his was on me. He always held me close to him, but this time, after every few minutes his hands would slip under my t-shirt and reach my breasts caressing them, or he would take my hand and kiss it. When a romantic scene came up in the movie he hit the pause button and started kissing my lips. At first I resisted as usual, but then gave in. It was one long French kiss, and both of us were completely lost in it. Though, I had to scold him when he tried to put his hand under my track pants. And even to that he reacted by pinching my butt. Normally, all this could have waited till the night. But now is was clear -in his mind he had some sort of list of all the things he wanted to do to me; or with me. And these 24 hours were his opportunity to do so.

My head hung low and I felt exhausted. If this is all that he wanted, he should have just asked it upfront : "You cheated on me and now you have agreed to be punished. In next few hours, you will have to sit and watch as I make out with other woman. And then you will have to let me spank you hard. Only then I can forget what you have done."

Obviously, in retrospect, I would have laughed at a statement like that, but if he had tried hard enough and made me feel guilty with all his lovey-dovey talk, I would have eventually agreed. I could take on all that and spanking as a punishment. But this humiliation of being tied and gagged, the feeling of helplessness, and not being in control was infuriating. He knew well that I loved power-play but hated the kinky stuff, and he should have remembered this. I would have given him what he wanted, but it should have been my CHOICE. I was his girlfriend, not his toy.

But for him that seemed irrelevant. Suddenly my left nipple was pinched. I looked sideways to find him standing right next to me, with his pants and boxers pulled down and his hard cock pointed right at my face. I had seen, touched and caressed his tool many times before, but it had never been pointed right in my face like a fucking gun. I was shocked. Crap! What the fuck did he expect from me?

Looking above, I could see that it was 3am in the morning. It was a Friday and Diwali now. A day when people spend quality time together, burst fireworks and go shopping or visit their relatives. For the first time we were going to have 4 days together. Thursday to Sunday and there was so much I had planned on doing this Diwali. Before this hell-ride started we had been planning to go out for shopping. Every time, I visited his city this is what we did. It was a routine we loved. At least I did, and he was kind and patient enough to tag along and help me with the choice-making. He knew me really well, and the shopping had always been a grand success. My apparel always impressed everyone at work. Obviously, I had helped him too on several occasions.

Once we had spent 6 hours in selecting a classy suit for him for a wedding he planned to attend. The trip generally involved shopping, then having a cheesy pizza for lunch - because I simple adored cheese; followed by a movie. This weekend, a dance movie for which I had waited since long had been released. We had decided to watch it and then later stop at his favorite bar for a couple of beers and a quick bite. It was an ideal way to spend a weekend - the perfect therapy that my tired brain and body needed since almost two months. But when I looked at his dick pointing at my face, I could see that my plans for the ideal day were going to be flushed down the toilet.

The signal was crystal clear. He expected oral sex. It had been demanded countless times before and every time I had firmly refused. I found it unhygienic and disgusting, while he justified it as amazing and completely safe. I knew my refusals frustrated him. Not being allowed to have sex made sense to him, since I didn't intend to lose my virginity before getting married. More importantly, I was terrified of the pain it would cause on first insertion. He knew this and understood it. But my apprehensions about oral sex seemed illogical to him. I had never agreed before and I was not going to agree now.

So when he untied the scarf from my mouth and moved forward, I simply looked away and barked "No!"

As expected, the reply was, "You had agreed to do as I asked, now there is no going back. Do it!"

I had half a mind to take his cock in my mouth and bite it hard just to teach him a lesson. Instead of being satisfied that the spanking had turned both of us on, he just wanted more. Why did he have to push my limits? I was turned on, and at this point if he had untied me and taken me to the bed, I would have given him the best kiss of his life. Probably after some convincing I might have broken the no-sex-before-marriage rule as well. But no. I felt really angry and looking back at him, I spit on his crotch. Bad idea! The hulk expression was back as he walked to the corner and drew out a brown box from his bag. He opened the box and took something out of it.

I couldn't see what it was but from the smirk on his face I was sure that I would hate it. "You shouldn't have done that. Now I will have to make you regret it..." he snapped.

He came and stood right in front of me, his cock a few inches from my eyes. And then I saw it in his hand - another kinky item from the Pandora's box. It was big black ring covered with some soft shining material that seemed like leather or rubber. On both sides of the ring, leather straps were attached which ended up in buckles. Before I could process what I was seeing, he yanked my hair and pulled my face upwards. I screamed from pain and tried to shift backwards, but the rope held my chest firmly to the table. I had almost forgotten the rope biting at my crotch and encircling my chest, in the face of this new threat. My mouth was all he needed to insert the ring behind me teeth. He pushed my jaw with one hand and inserted the ring behind my teeth with the other.

First I felt that soft material behind my upper teeth and then as the lower part was inserted in, I felt it digging into my lower gums. Only the padding was soft, but the ring itself seemed to be made up of hard metal. I bit down, hoping that it would bend a little, but the ring held my mouth wide open. He took the straps behind my head - a jolt and pull at the ring confirmed that he had just buckled the straps right above my neck. He let go of my hair and I immediately looked down to give rest to my strained neck. As drool trickled down from my mouth, I finally became aware that I was gagged again, but this time no tape or cloth covered my lips. My mouth was forced open and exposed to him and his wild desires. I voiced out my protests, but they came out as gurgles. I just kept trying to dislodge with my tongue, which made even more noises of "aahah hhuhh ahhh uh uhh."

He stood stroking his dick with his left hand, apparently even more turned on due to the new gag I wore and the sounds I made. The erection now pointed right at my mouth, waiting for me to accept it. He took pride in how huge his dick was. I noticed that he had shaved off all his pubic hair and his testicles seemed neat in some weird way. Was this planned too? Even my vagina was not so clean. I waxed all over my arms and legs, but never touched my pubic hair. It was a short growth, and did not hamper in cleaning activities. I had no intention to put a razor down there because I feared I would cut myself. And waxing in such a sensitive area was not an option.

"Forget everything and just feel it. Touch it with the tip of your tongue!" he commanded sternly.

I looked up at the man who had forced me into this position and now was instructing me on how to suck his cock. Wow! I had to admit, the way he had tied me, he had complete access to my vagina, my butt hole and my mouth. I was stupid if I thought that he was going to stop at oral sex. This guy standing in front of me with his dick in his hands was not my boyfriend. He looked like a possessed man driven by his wild agenda. It wouldn't be a surprise if after making me suck him; he went behind me and first fucked my vagina and then my ass. Why would he give a damn about my virginity or my pain?

Would he care about how much I hated the idea of anal sex? Men had their penis, and we women had our vagina. Wasn't one hole enough? Why did they have to put their penis into every hole in our body. Go ahead. Fuck my mouth, vagina, butt-hole, and don't stop at that, fuck my nose, ears and the small hole from where I pee, fuck that too. Bloody bastard!

He advanced further and his dick entered my mouth. The first point of contact was the tongue. He had inserted just the tip of his penis, and it had touched the tip of tongue.

"Lick!" he commanded as if I was a programmed robot, and I involuntarily moved my tongue around it touching it at several places. Oh, that felt like an advanced level of French kiss. I felt butterflies in my stomach and a dampness in my crotch again.

Seriously? Was I going to be turned on by this disgusting act? He pushed forward and I drew back my tongue trying keep it close to the tip of penis. And then it started. He yanked my hair, and pushed all in. The tip touched my throat and once again the gag reflex kicked in. He massaged my throat from outside and waited for me to recover. His testicles were brushing past my lips and I could smell testosterone. The smell, the touch and the dampness, made me forget everything else and I tried to close my lips around his dick. Although the ring held my teeth apart, I could still stretch my lips and close them around his hard cock. This just turned his cock turn even harder, and he started thrusting back and forth.

My whole face moved at the rhythm of his pelvis as he drove deep into me. But what was I supposed to do next? I had no idea, even theoretically, about the tricks of giving a blowjob. Reading about that part I had always willingly ignored. He let go of my hair, and started inserted his hands between the table and my chest. As soon as his cold hands touched my breasts, I felt a weird sensation go through me. The thrusts continued as he pinched my nipples and fondled my breasts. This wasn't the first time when he had touched me there, but it definitely felt different. Every time he pinched my nipples I sucked in. And every time he pressed my boobs I lifted my tongue. I had actually turned into a female sex-bot. It was an auto-reflex action but it seemed to work, because I felt some liquid in my mouth and it was not my saliva.

He withdrew his left hand from my breast, and pinched my nose. This was the third time he had done this today, and every time it worked. I couldn't breathe so I tried to suck air through my mouth, and unknowingly I ended up sucking drops of his semen. It tasted yuck and smelled of manhood. The thrusts, groping , nose-pinching and sucking continued in tandem as he gradually built up the speed. I was getting excited too and held on to his dick with my lips sucking in whatever he unloaded.

Suddenly he stopped, his dick became harder and was throbbing like it had a heart of its own, he pinched my nose again, and that is when I felt a large quantity of hot, thick fluid at the back of my mouth. He reached the point of orgasm, and cummed into my mouth, unloading so much that my mouth could hardly take it. I swallowed as much as I could, but as soon as he released my nose, I coughed up and streams of semen squirted out of my wide-open mouth. Now, this had reached disgusting and the taste on my tongue felt unbearably repulsive, and so did the odor that invaded my nostrils. He withdrew his dick and took a few steps back.

I was recovering from shortness of breath when he walked off, came back with his phone, and took a picture of me. Shit! How dare he? He even had the audacity to show it to me. As the screen turned towards me, I was shocked to see the picture. It was different from what I had imagined I might be looking like. My naked back and tip of butt could be seen, along with the crotch rope between my butt cheeks, my legs uselessly pushed against the floor, and the face - strands of hair fell on my face, the black ring was visible behind my white teeth, my lips made an O shape, and semen dripped onto my chin, while the straps dug into my cheeks. It was so pathetic, I had to look away. This was the worst moment in the day so far.

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?" he asked. I had no answer.

Surprisingly, it was precisely a state of mixed feelings. I wished he hadn't shown me the pic, maybe then I could have admitted to myself that somewhere the wild part inside me enjoyed the experience. But now, I wasn't sure. I felt humiliated and abused. It felt like I wasn't his girlfriend, but just another hole, which he had used to masturbate.

I stared blankly at him. He probably understood my confused state and responded "You did quite well, for a first-timer. I wish I could teach you more."

Most of things he was saying today didn't make sense. Since morning there was a feeling hanging in the air that this was our last weekend together. Had he already decided to break up with me? Either way, after this humiliation, I was definitely going to break up with him. Since this was India, I had to worry about people, parents, their reputation and social standing. If we were in United States or some faraway place, I would have definitely filed a police complaint against him, just to teach him a lesson. Once again, I had gone down a pointless train of thought, while absent mindedly staring at the cum soaked floor below me.

Just at that moment he came back with my white panties in his hands. He used them to wipe his cock and then wiped my chin and lips with it. And then he effortlessly stuffed them into my open mouth. I could not help but notice how methodically he did it. Starting with wadding up a small portion that was wet, then putting it in my mouth and then gradually inserting the left over portion in both side of my cheeks - and thus he had made sure that the whole panty was inside, and not even a bit was left protruding out. My jaw already ached from being stretched open like that for such a long time.

Panties? Again? First, soaked with that woman's juices. And now my own favorite underwear soaked in his semen. Didn't he have a cloth rag or a handkerchief. What was this obsession with underwear? But I knew the answer already. Wet, soiled underwear was definitely 10 times more humiliating than a random piece of cloth. It seemed like he was having fun now, because he clicked another picture and showed it to me. Yeah yeah, pink lips, outline of black ring beneath them, a couple of teeth visible, mouth gaping open, and white soft cloth stuffed in it... Quite colorful, indeed. Great!

"You do look sexy, I must admit!" he remarked casually. There I had received my answer. Thank you, you moron!

He wore his shorts again, poured himself a glass of vodka, lighted a cigarette, and walked around in the room. The forced blowjob had definitely calmed him down.

He started talking, "Now do you get it? This humiliation, this helplessness- this was to show you that you don't own me. You cannot just go around taking your boyfriend for granted. I am your BF damn it and I have some rights, some expectations. You cannot just keep on insulting people, treating them like trash. You don't appreciate the things I do for you, fine. I don't want that. You are always demeaning and condescending. Fine, that's who you are. But after putting up with all that, your tantrums, your bickering, your mood-swings, you go ahead and reward me by cheating on me, and that too with my best friend? How does it feel now? I felt exactly the same way - humiliated, insulted, used, abused, helpless and exhausted."

And I admitted to myself, that he was right in some ways. Only difference what I was going through, was physical as well as emotional pain. Whereas he had been on the receiving end of emotional pain for the past few months. I often used condescending tones, scolded him on every small thing, never really appreciated all the little things he did for me, and often did whatever came to my mind before giving a thought about his opinions. That was correct!

He came back to me and unbuckled the straps, pulled out the panties, and gently took out the ring. While unbuckling the straps he again broke a few strands of my hair which pissed me off all over again.

"Do you understand? Is there anything you want to say?"

Pissed off again, I just blurted out "Fuck You!"

Another wrong choice.

His expression changed once again. "Fine, so be it." He pressed my jawbone, stuffed the panties back in my mouth, ripped off a strip of his ever favorite duct tape and plastered it over my lips. And I was back to square one.


Chapter 6 - Broken Bitch

The last insult that I had hurled at him after the forced blowjob, was now coming back to bite me in my ass. The knot holding the rope at my chest was cut off and I was dragged back on the table. He put his arms beneath me, and turned me around, so that I was lying across the length of the table, instead of the narrow breadth. He was just pulling and pushing me as if I was some object and not a human being.

I could finally rest my head on the table, but my legs below the knees were dangling in the air. I had closed my eyes out of exhaustion, when I felt cold steel on my ankles again, and heard the click. Ankles - cuffed again. Next was the handcuffs around my wrists, and I was prepared for it. But that was not all. He took the rope which he had used previously to secure my chest and butt to the table, and tied it around my wrists in several loops. And then came the surprise. He bent my legs and brought them closer to my butt. So close, that my heels almost touched my butt cheeks. He pulled the rope tighter making me stretch my arms as far as they could go, and then tied that rope around my ankles. It all seemed futile since I was already cuffed.

But the reality dawned when he released my feet. The rope held my wrists bound to my ankles. If pulled back my arms, my legs were lifted too and all my weight came onto my chest. If I tried to relax my feet and stretched them away from my butt, the rope pulled at my wrists and shoulder, raising it from the table, so that all my weight was on my stomach. I pulled and released and finally understood that no matter what I did, either my shoulders, or my wrists, or waist, or legs- any one of them was going to suffer a shitload of pain. The only way to avoid it was to distribute the strain. I had to keep a balance by looking straight, arching my back a little, and hold my feet with my hands. It was extremely uncomfortable and exhausting, and I had no idea for how long I would have to stay like this, because he just turned off the lights, stormed off into the living room, locked the door and went out, leaving me all tied up like a pig on the table, and plunged into darkness for an indefinite time.

The silence and the darkness were unbearable. It was difficult to say what was causing more pain to me - the position in which I was lying or the piercing loneliness that had swept all over me since the minute he had left. I rested my head on the table, and drifted in and out of sleep. The fact that I could sleep in such an uncomfortable and awkward position made me realize how exhausted my brain and body must have been.

The oral sex forced on me in the past one hour, had left a bad taste in my mouth. It felt as if the semen-soaked panties were rotting in my oral cavity making it dry, sore and definitely smelly. Lying in the trunk had already stiffened each and every part of my body, but standing there all bent and squashed against the table had broken my back. He had forgotten that there was already a back problem which I suffered since my infamous scooter accident from almost two years ago. If he wanted to leave me alone like this, at least he should have taken the pain of making me a little comfortable. Every muscle from my shoulder to feet ached, the rope dug into my skin, and the table felt hard against my breasts and stomach. He had kept the air conditioning on which made me feel extremely cold.

This temperature was alright normally, but being completely naked except for my bra changed things quite a bit. Being a realist, I had already accepted that escape from this strict tie-up was impossible, but the least I could do was make myself comfortable. Taking the first step to accomplish that, I stretched my legs as far as they would go. They hung in the mid-air and pulled at my wrists, while I put all me weight on my stomach and thighs, and tried to move a little to my left. If only, I could shift to one side of the table and then turn on my right side, there was a chance that in the next step I could turn more and manage to lie on my back.

Cautiously I continued my movements, keeping enough gap to prevent me from falling off the table. Holding my leg with my wrist I gradually put all my weight on my right shoulder and tried to turn sideways. The first few attempts failed, but finally, one quick jerk helped me turn, almost making me fall. All my weight was on my right side now, and I was facing the door. It was a stupid move because now my right arm was crushed beneath my own body. But having a chance to rest me legs on the table, and the freedom on my breasts brought some much-needed relief.

They were sweaty and pale from all the pinching, pulling and being sandwiched between me and the table. I lay still thinking of what could have been so important that had made him leave the house in the middle of the night...Out of the blue, a shrilling sound pierced through the silence, followed by a loud drumming sound. I strained to look back at the bed and saw his phone ringing and vibrating on the side-table. It went silent and after a few minutes started ringing again. That's when it struck me, that it was his alarm going off, playing Rocky's Eye of the tiger ringtone. This implied that it was 5'o clock in the morning already- his time to wake up and start exercising. In past few months he had turned into a fitness freak, waking up at 5am every morning, going out for an hour-long jog, and then onto the terrace for multiple sets of push-ups and sit-ups. So almost eight hours had already gone by since the ordeal had started and there were still 16 more to go.

If I was in such a bad state in one-third time, I was going to be end up insane by the time it got over. The alarm kept going on and on every five minutes for almost 5-6 times until eventually the phone went dead leaving me all alone again. The fool! Didn't he know the basic rule of BDSM, was to never leave a bound person alone. Plus, I was not just bound, but gagged too. In last 8 hours, I had learnt how to keep my breathing controlled, and how to keep breathing through my nose. But now it was getting frustrating. What if my nose clogged up? I would end up suffocating by the time he even came back. Fuck, that was a scary thought! This was highly irresponsible of him, and I hated him for that.

I woke up with a start from the sound of door being unlocked, and saw his silhouette on the living room door. The lights were flicked on making me go blind for a moment. My heart beats raced as I saw him enter the bedroom - not out of excitement but out of fear of what he had in store for me next. In his hands, there was huge white Apollo Pharmacy polybag, which made me wonder if he was all right? After all, why else would he rush to the pharmacy in the middle of the night like that. What that bag contained, I had no idea, but something was definitely wrong with him.

He looked passively at me, as if I was some showpiece and went off to the bathroom. That's when I remembered, I needed to pee badly. Cold and alcohol both always made my bladder go awry, causing me to pee more frequently than usual. When he came out I started grunting through my taped up lips to attract some attention. I could feel that he was looking at me, so I thrust my hips forward tying to indicate that I needed a pee-break. "mmm mmmuuummm, mmmmph." "Washroom,now!" was what I meant.

Walking up to me he questioned "You need to pee?... Hmmmm. Okay."

I always hated his 'hmmmm', so I glared at him, my eyes showering my fury on him. Come on, man! The lady needed a loo break, how difficult was that to proceess.

"You know, asking nicely would really improve your chances right now. It was about time you learned to be a little polite at least," was all he said.

I just looked away and mumbled 'fuck you' which came out as another angry grunt. But his response was as weird as him, "Nope, not yet. Your legs must be stiff, you should take a walk first, bitch!"

What he just called me? A bitch? Bloody jerk! I stared at him in disbelief. He had never ever used that word before no matter how rough our argument got.

Reading my expression, he calmly presented his clarification "You keep on saying all the time that you are a selfish bitch from hell and shouldn't be trusted. Well, now I agree."

He walked off leaving the last few words lingering in my head. Yes, I used to say it often. I had dated and broken up so many times, that I was convinced that I wasn't designed for relationships. I was selfish and cared only about what made me happy. If something didn't work out well, I had preferred to end it then and there instead of stretching it endlessly. But not this time. This was my first real relationship that had lasted so long and no matter how hard I tried, it had been impossible to let go of him. He knew me so well, that I couldn't imagine my life without him anymore. I needed him and I wanted him, but there was no way on the earth that I was going to admit it.

"Come on bitch, I have just the right thing for you." He was back, holding a black dog collar with a chain attached to it. "I had brought for it Tiger, but it is going to suit you just fine."

Tiger was his neighbor's dog. Was he serious? Calling me a bitch was thing, but bringing in his dog's collar was way too much. Without waiting for my reaction, he undid the buckles on the collar, and while I shook my head as much as I could and tried to pull away from him, he wrapped it around my neck, tightened it at the back, and left the chain dangling down on the floor. Asshole! How dare he do that?!! Bastard!

I heard the scissors snipping away at the ropes as the pressure on my feet eased up and the click sound came as the cuffs were removed from my wrists and ankles. I was hoping he would cut off the tape too, but he didn't. Blood flew through my legs as he straightened them and massaged the calves with both his hands. I was lifted from the table and held roughly until I could stand still without his support.

Marching off to his cupboard, he fished for something and returned with one of his worn out shirts. He quickly grabbed my wrists and brought them to the front, put them through shirt sleeves and cuffed them again. It happened so fast that I once again failed to seize the opportunity to push him away and run. The shirt was draped around me and buttoned up. I stretched my arms forward trying to suggest that he should remove the cuffs, if he was really talking me for a walk.

He got the hint and laughed, saying "Don't worry, no one will notice."

He stretched the shirt's long sleeves over the cuffs, concealing them well, and buttoned up the shirt's top button thus safely hiding away the dog collar out of sight. I continued struggling, out of the discomfort being caused by my full bladder, while he started wrapping his towel around my waist. I looked down still trying to comprehend what he had in his mind as he secured the towel with his belt-buckled up tight around my waist. The towel was long enough to cover me from waist to ankles.

Last but not the least, the tape was roughly ripped off from my lips accompanied by a painful "ahhh" from my mouth. I started to push out the panties with my tongue, and they were almost half way out when he came back and pushed them all in again. I was no way going to voluntarily keep the sodden underwear in my mouth, despite having the golden chance to spit them out.

He knew it, and took away the opportunity by plastering a strip of transparent tape on my lips. He stuck two more strips above that, just to reinforce the effect. My first reaction was to look around to see how many rolls of tape did he actually have in his torture tool-kit. To my utter shock, I saw a half-empty roll of silver duct tape, a transparent roll, a plastic shining roll of black electric tape and a roll of white medical tape. The list of weird and strange stuff, was just getting longer, first the hand-cuffs, then the ring-shaped gag and now this. What else had this guy been hiding all along in the dark corners of his room?

My neck felt choked, when he suddenly tugged at the chain hanging from my collar. With another jerk he pulled me forward. I had no intention to move, but the collar was crushing my wind-pipe so I unwillingly stepped forward. Like a roman-slave bought off from a flea-market, I was pulled outside the house and into the building's lift. He hit the button for top-most floor, left the chain on the floor and started flexing his muscles in preparation for his daily exercise.

If he was indeed going to treat me like a bitch, I was going to show him how wild I was. Without thinking anything, I turned around and pressed the first button on the panel with my cuffed wrists. The lift opened up on the first floor and I stepped out in a hurry. If only I could get down to the house before him, and lock myself in, it would touch him a good lesson. Maybe I would find the handcuffs' key was well. I climbed down the stairs and rushed to the door, the chain dangling behind me as I ran.

Reaching at his flat, I pushed at the door knob, but it turned out to be locked. Wait! I knew where the spare key was, but it was going to be impossible to reach the electric-meter box with my hands tied up like that. I stretched my arms upwards, and searched the box, and finally the key got into my tired fingers. I rushed back to unlock the door. Just as I had opened the door, and stepped in, he came up right behind me and pushed me in. With one push at my knees, I was down on the ground, sprawled on my buttocks. He stormed off into the bedroom and came back with another pair of hand cuffs and rope.

As I lay sprawled sideways on the floor, he first put the cuffs around my ankles, and then tied the rope above my and below my knees. The rope's loose end was, brought out beneath the towels overlapping hem, and then tied to the center of the cuffs at my wrists. I didn't understand the configuration at first. It only made sense when he lifted me and pushed me on my knees.

Damn it. I was on all fours in a crawling position. I tried to get up, but the rope between my knees and wrists made sure that I had to stay bent down. A smack at my butt and another push sent me down again, and then he tugged at the collar. The previous "slave-position" was bad enough, but this "animal-stance" was utterly loathsome. In that moment, all my love and longing for him evaporated, and with every pull at the chain, my hatred for him went deeper and deeper.

Very few flats were occupied in his building, and since it was a long weekend, most of them must have been out on a holiday. There were no CCTV cameras that he needed to worry about as he pulled at me making me crawl right from the living room and into the lift. Every time I tried to get up, he went behind me and smacked my towel covered butt making me squeal in pain. The lift opened up and I was dragged into the terrace.

It was the 21st floor, and this was the highest building in the locality. So, quite conveniently there was no one out there who could have spotted a 25 year old girl being dragged like a bitch by a tall, strong guy. Once we were in the terrace, he took me to one corner and tied the chain to a nearby plumbing pipeline. For extra measure, he took out a small padlock from his pocket and locked the chain in place. It seemed, that every move, every way in which he had treated me or tied up had been well thought and mentally practiced. Possibly, before making a move, he had precisely imagined what to use and how to use it to restrain me, and that is why he had managed to do so in such a flawless manner. Hats off!

The pipe was embedded in the wall, and no matter how hard I pulled, the chain or pipe were not going to come off. I stayed in a kneeling position and lifted my hands from the floor. My palms were dirty and bruised due to all the crawling on the floor. Thankfully, the thick layer of towel had prevented my knees from getting all bruised up. He had successfully made me feel like I was really his bitch. Yes, that is exactly what I was at the moment. His wild, crazy, pet bitch. I bent low, put my wrists behind me neck and tried to remove the collar but the buckle was secured by a small pad lock too. Trying pulling off the transparent tape off my lips, but it stuck well. Thanks to my nail-biting habits, it was hard to rip off the tape with my blunt nails. I was still trying accept what he had just done to me, when suddenly I heard a dog barking. As I turned around I saw his neighbor's dog coming right at me.

He stood there watching and exercising as the dog leapt onto me. I was a cat-person and had always hated dogs. Cats were nice and cute and adorable, and I loved them. As per my folks, I was myself one big, lazy cat. Seeing them always made me smile, and seeing dogs always made me run. This big fluffy Tiger was all over me, licking at my arms with his tongue, jumping around me and trying to lick my face. As he moved closer to my face, I fell backwards, and with a thud, landed on my back. The rope from my knees, held my hands near my stomach, while I kept my feet firmly on the ground.

Seeing this as some sort if an invitation, Tiger leapt onto my stomach and started licking my face. His tongue all over me made me feel disgusting. I had seen him licking my boyfriend and other people in the building, and they all claimed that it was completely safe, since he was vaccinated periodically. But I still found it disgusting. My bf stood over me, and sprinkled some milk from a tetra pack all over my body. It felt wet and sticky and made tiger lick me all over again. But, what the fuck, where did the dog and the milk and all that come from? Had he already left them on the stairs before he came to fetch me? That's what it seemed. Bloody, twisted psycho!!

He was literally over my body, pushing on my stomach and breasts with his paws. At one moment, his rear leg was right above my vagina and I had to literally push him away. He got angry and started barking like crazy. Really, dogs were like men. Bloody egoistic morons.

All of it was summarized in just one statement, when my boyfriend laughed out loud and said "My Bitch molested by my neighbor's dog. Awwwww! We must call up his owner. Shouldn't we?"

While tiger continued barking, he dialed up a number on his cell phone and said, "Please come up to the terrace."

He stroked tiger's back and calmed him down to and then pulled at the chain again and put me back in the bitch-mode. As soon as I tried to move a little, he would spank me hard.

He took out his phone again and exclaimed," Shhh. Discipline Bitch!". And with that he clicked my picture once again.

Tears fell from my eyes, thinking of the state I was in. What had I done to deserve being treated like this? How could any BF in the world ever think of making his GF crawl like a dog? It seemed rather impossible! Just then I heard the lift doors opening and someone walked into the terrace. Holy Crap!!

It was the same women from yesterday night. And then it struck me. She was Zoya Sheikh, his neighbor. I had seen her pics on Facebook. Obviously, it was difficult to recall all that yesterday night, but seeing her face brought all of it back in a micro-second. But wasn't she married? From what my BF had told me her husband was some big shot who travelled throughout the year.

They hugged each other and then walked towards me. She smiled me first, and then kicked my butt with her sandals, making me fall again. They both laughed, and walked off to the terrace's edge, with Tiger at their heels. She stood there watching the sun rise - her arm around his waist, and he kept his hand on around her shoulder. They seemed like a perfect couple, laughing and joking having the best morning of their lives- the strong handsome guy, the hot and sexy woman, and their loyal dog - a perfect family. And lying in one corner, there I was, tied, gagged, abandoned, abused and broken - their bitch.