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1. Caught Elizabeth came awake, utterly confused. Her head felt thick and muzzy as if she had been speaking and suddenly woke up to find that she had dozed off in the middle of a sentence. What? Where am I? This confusion soon spun into panic as a spike of adrenaline rushed through her veins. She was bound, and there was something covering her eyes, a dark blindfold. Like an animal caught in a trap she instinctively thrashed, trying to break free. No chance. Oh my God! This is not happening! Elizabeth forced herself to take long slow breaths, while she attempted to understand what exactly had transpired, how she had gotten here in this place. She licked her lips and tried to swallow with a dry throat. Fingers and toes were all she could use, and she stretched out, feeling everything within her reach. From what she could tell she was on a four poster bed, securely bound by soft cloth, her arms and legs spread wide. Elizabeth found she could move, but not much. With her eyes covered, she could see nothing – but there was daylight or perhaps just a strong room light shining from above. She could perceive this as a glow, slightly brighter than absolute dark, through her mask. The soft feel of cloth rubbed against her bare skin, and she shivered as she became aware of goose bumps rising on her breasts and forearms. Fear and imagination had caused this reaction for it wasn’t cold under what seemed to be a delicate bed sheet. The temperature in her prison was comfortable. My prison, the thought echoed, along with a tendril of dread. As a trial lawyer she was used to dealing with difficult circumstances. But who had kidnapped her and tied her up, naked of all things? A woman used to stress, and not easily put off her stride by unexpected ambushes in court, Elizabeth maintained rigid control of her fear. Okay, I’m tied up, she thought. Fine. I’ll just take this one step at a time. “Hello?” she said out loud. No response. Her voice came back to her in a dull, non-echoing manner that made her understand she was in a large room, most likely a bedroom with carpets and curtains. Something nearby was humming, a refrigerator perhaps? And she was certainly tied to a bed. Elizabeth cast her mind back, searching, attempting to understand. What was the last thing she could remember? She and Mark had ten whole days off, and were celebrating their one year anniversary with a vacation in Vegas. They had originally considered a fun, quick wedding in Las Vegas, something that would amuse them, but that had always been out of the question. Her father, John Coit, Senior Partner in Coit, Boynes and Jones, was very rich. Cassy, his third wife, while not burdened with a high IQ, was of a similar age to herself. Given her father’s previous choices, Elizabeth had been prepared to dislike Cassy, but instead had found her rather sweet. They both would have been hurt by the Vegas option. A huge wedding had kept Cassy entertained and her father pacified. Not to mention the valuable publicity it brought to the firm. Right. They had gone to Las Vegas, that she remembered, and then what? As far as she could recall she and Mark had arrived, gone to their room, changed their clothes and left for dinner. What could possibly have happened? Where was she? And where was Mark? She took another deep, calming breath. God, Mark. She hoped he was alright. The sound of a heavy door opening and gently closing caused instant tension and her whole body went still. “Hello, Elizabeth,” said a deep, soft voice. The tone was composed and cool, the accent was faintly European, French? Not American, that was certain. He sounded as though he was at the foot of the bed. “Who are you?” Elizabeth demanded in what she hoped was her normal, confident Lawyer’s voice. “Why have you brought me here? And where is my husband Mark?” A drifting waft of nutmeg, cedar and Brazilian Rosewood scents came to her nostrils. She recognized that cologne – it was one of the most expensive on the market. My kidnapper is rich… and has good taste, she thought. The knuckles of the man’s hand rubbed down her face and she instinctively pulled away. The deep voice gave a low laugh. “Who I am is not important. You may call me Sir. I will explain why you are here shortly. And your husband Mark is well. He has found himself in a similar state as you have, that is to say, blindfolded and bound naked to a bed, although I have tied him lying face down on his stomach.” Elizabeth remained silent, and for a few moments her captor said nothing, apparently letting her digest these revelations. Mark was tied face down? Naked? Holy shit! What kind of pervert was this guy? Did he plan to rape them both? “What do you want?” She said. But her throat was so dry her voice came out in almost a whisper. “A very good question, Elizabeth. In fact that is the exact question you should be asking.” Elizabeth felt the sheet gently brush against her skin as it was pulled off of her body. Slowly it was drawn down, exposing her breasts, moving lower. The sheet stopped moving mid stomach. Elizabeth was almost glad that her eyes remained covered. She didn’t want to see this man look at her naked breasts. With a completely unintended and uncontrolled reaction, she trembled. “Mark tells me you are on the pill, and are clean,” the man said. “I too have no STDs, thus we shall not have the need for condoms.” Mark? Mark told him? She wondered how long Mark had been conscious before she woke. Obviously long enough for this man to get that sort of information out of him. She wondered what lever he used against her husband. Mark wouldn’t willingly tell him anything, she was sure of it. Elizabeth heard the man move then, not his steps, maybe the sound of his clothes, or his breathing. Blinded as she was, her hearing seemed much more acute. The man sat down on her right, depressing the bed slightly. A part of him made contact with her waist and although she tried, she could not squirm away. With a pounding heart she endured his physical contact for dignity’s sake if nothing else. “Nice, Elizabeth,” he said. “Very nice. Such perfect breasts.” She tensed then, fully expecting her kidnapper to touch her, but he didn’t, nor did he appear to notice her reaction. He just continued talking in an almost soothing, utterly male voice. “You are a beautiful woman. I can see the physical allure that must have drawn your husband to you. As for any other attractions, such as your personality, courage and character, well, these I have yet to reveal.” Elizabeth pressed her lips together and screwed up her nerve. It wasn’t that difficult, because despite the circumstances and her fear, she was furious. “I see,” she snapped. “So you are someone who likes to force a woman for sex, are you? What did you use, a date rape drug or something? I suppose this is the only way you can feel like a big man, right? Well go ahead then. Rape me and get it over with so we can all go home, will you?” Her captor laughed, it was a warm, genuine sound that rolled through her and made nothing of her anger. “I do not plan to rape you Elizabeth, nothing so déclassé, you understand? In fact, I will not fuck you unless you beg me to.” He paused for a long moment. “I think I will enjoy the sound of you begging, mon cher.” She mentally and physically recoiled at this totally arrogant and confident pronouncement, but the back of her mind clicked in acknowledgment of what she had originally suspected: “Mon cher” is “My Dear” in French, she thought. Okay. The man is French. How can I use that knowledge? He placed his warm hand, firm and large on her shoulder, and she involuntarily stilled. “Listen carefully Elizabeth and know this: I will get what I want. I will get everything I want. Your wishes, Mark’s wishes – they are as nothing to me. But I also make this pledge, you will want to please me, mon cher, and after six days I will release you both.” “Six days!” Elizabeth couldn’t help herself – the words just flew out of her mouth in protest. Almost a week as some sort of sexual slave? How would she survive it? How could she endure and live with herself afterwards? A long future of hours spent with sexual assault counselors swept through her thoughts. Her throat tightened and her eyes burned under her blindfold. I will not let this monster see me cry. As if aware of her emotional overload, her captor patted her shoulder and sat back, removing his hand. “I release you in six days – as long as you and Mark both behave and do exactly as I command. I swear this.” Tense with the need to hold back a flood of useless tears, Elizabeth strove to prevent her nostrils from flaring, and fought to slow her panicked, rapid breaths. The man remained silent beside her, no doubt watching her reaction, knowing she was distraught. This knowledge made her angry. He moved once more, bending toward her. Something in the shift of the bed, an alteration – a sudden darkening or shadow in the light made her aware or him and where he was. Elizabeth held perfectly still, preparing herself. When the man brushed his firm, warm knuckles across her cheek this time, she moved. Fast. Flinging her head toward those fingers, mouth open, Elizabeth felt his flesh between her teeth and bit down hard. The man gave a grunt of pain or surprise or both, but with astonishing control he made no attempt to pull his fingers away. Instead as she continued biting him, viciously grinding her teeth into his flesh, he put his other hand across her neck and squeezed. Her captor’s hand was warm and big and he pushed down across her throat with inflexible strength, stopping all oxygen and blood flow to her brain, cutting the life right out of her. Elizabeth opened her mouth and let his fingers go – but the man continued to hold her neck down, strangling her. The blood drummed loudly in her head and she felt herself to be in danger of passing out. Terrified, she bucked and thrashed, and he lessened the pressure, but only slightly, just enough to allow her circulation to return and permit her to breathe. Heart pounding, she gasped in a large intake of air. The hand remained around her neck, a threatening presence. After a minute, or what felt like an eternity to Elizabeth, she came to her senses. This man could kill her! What had she been thinking? Oh God. I don’t want to die! The pleasure of getting even with him just wasn’t worth it. She whispered with her bruised throat, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean… I don’t know what I was thinking.” The hand left her throat completely and the man stood up. “I forgive this impertinence, Elizabeth. You are a fighter, a winner, and you like to be in control. This situation must be challenging for you, I know. Further, I have not yet explained the rules. Please excuse me, I will not leave your side for long,” he said, and she heard his retreat, and the sound of the thick door opening. But this time the door was left open, she could hear it click against the wall, into some sort of wall latch. She heard an indistinct mumbling from outside her room. Two or more men were talking. But after that she heard a noise she had never heard before, except perhaps in a violent movie. It was the sound of something hard, hitting flesh. A yell of anger and pain overrode every other sound then. The male scream seemed familiar. Her heart pounded. Mark? Was that terrible sound from her husband, Mark? The angry protest came, once, twice – and then finally whoever it was became quiet. Oh God, she thought. Please don’t let it be Mark. – See more at: http://bondagecorner.co.uk/blog/62824/elizabeths-erotic-bondage-chapter-1-by-nikki-sex.html#sthash.l76hfks7.dpuf