Kidnapped

Kidnapped

By @Ted_Subby on FetLife, e-mail address nrjb2@yahoo.com.

Please check out all of my stories at www.assdisc.com.

Synopsis: This story contains depictions of injury and possibly worse. A man is kidnapped from his home and violently tortured. Codes = F/m, torture, potential snuff, non-consensual.

This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.5/ or send a letter to:

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171 Second Street, Suite 300

San Francisco, California 94105

USA

Note: Almost all of my other stories involve characters who have some personality traits in common with me or represent aspects of views which I may have. That is not the case for this story. I do not agree with any of the philosophies or activities portrayed here and the torture depicted in this story has little or no resemblance to BDSM torture.

I knew she wasn’t going to kill me. Women may be a lot of things, but not murderers. Still, once I realized what was going on I was scared out of my mind.

As usual I was sleeping naked on my stomach a bit to one side with one arm out and bent at the elbow so that my hand is near my face while the other arm is extended towards my legs. Consequently, it was easy for her to pin me to the bed just by climbing on top of me. I keep my house’s doors locked, of course, but she must have jimmied open a window which I usually forget to lock. By the time I was awake enough to realize what was going on, my wrists were being cuffed behind my back by gloved hands.

I struggled half-heartedly for the first second or two since I thought this was a dream, and then I started to use more force but I had no leverage and could only squirm against the bed as she sat on my back. Just a few seconds after my wrists were cuffed a strip of thick tape was slapped over my mouth. I panicked and thrashed my legs but then she laid her full body on top of me and whispered into my ear “Shhh.”

At this point I realized, feeling her breasts against my back, that it was a female who was attacking me and that settled me down a bit, though I am not certain why gender was a factor. In any case, I also realized that I was at her mercy and struggling would not do me any good from this prone position.

She said “That’s it, just calm down. I’m going to have some fun with you and then let you go. Just relax and do what I say, and everything will be alright.” I wanted to ask her why she was doing this and what she meant by fun but with the thick tape over my mouth I was kept silent.

The room was still dark and I wondered if she meant to rape me in some way. I felt that she would not have to do that because I am available and enjoy casual sex just like the next guy, so unless maybe she is very ugly in some way I would be a willing participant. On second thought I figured that maybe it was best if she just kept the lights off as she did what she felt she had to do. In any case, I was starting to feel okay with the situation and I was certain from her tone of voice and comforting words that things would be okay if I remained calm.

She put a blindfold over my eyes and asked me “If I stand up, will you stay still like a good boy?” In response I nodded my head and gave a two grunt “yes” sound through the gag. She lifted her weight off me and off the bed and then pulled my ankles together to put some sort of metal cuffs on. To my surprise she then said “Get up” and with her gloved hand on my arms she helped me stand up off the bed.

As I swung my feet off the bed towards the floor I found that the ankle cuffs were attached to each other by a short chain, making it somewhat awkward for me to get off the bed. After she helped me stand upright she said “Careful” as she led me walking slowly with small blind steps out of the bedroom and towards the nearby front door.

I heard her unlock the door and I thought about doing something to stop this. If I allowed myself to be kidnapped, then there is no telling what could happen. Instinctively, I believed her when she said that she just wanted to have some fun with me so I didn’t particularly worry about being killed or held for ransom, and I wondered why she would kidnap me if she just wanted to ransack my house. Even so, this was the moment of truth of when I had to decide whether or not to make a break for it. However, when I tried to think of a way to escape, nothing came to mind. I could give a short kick to her knee but that wouldn’t accomplish anything except probably violence in return. I could just grunt into the tape over my mouth over and over but I knew that would get me nowhere. I could try to run but the chain between my ankles would limit me to very small steps. The biggest thing I could try would be to lunge my body into hers so that she and I would bang into the wall but ultimately I was not willing to take that risk of angering her with probably no benefit. So I decided to wait and try to find a moment of vulnerability later, whenever that moment might arise. At this point I felt very helpless to do anything meaningful.

Just before she opened the front door my abductor said “Don’t do anything stupid. You and I would both regret it.” As she led me outside I was struck with the coolness of the air on my naked skin and the stone walkway beneath my bare feet. I knew that it would be very unlikely for anyone to see my nakedness since my nearest neighbors are around a slight bend in the road, and I had already decided that now was not the moment of vulnerability for me to try to escape, so I took one small step at a time as she led me into my driveway. She had me climb carefully into the trunk of her car which she closed behind me.

This situation felt surreal. Do people get abducted from their homes for no apparent reason by a lone intruder? I guess I should take more seriously the issue of locking my windows at night, or even during the day. And I haven’t even been threatened with anything, she just waltzed right in and cuffed me. Damn this is frustrating how little resistance I was able to put up.

During the 20-30 minute drive I squirmed around to try to find a latch to the trunk with no success, and I tried to push my face against the floor to rub the blindfold off my eyes but it was cinched in tight with very rigid straps and would not budge. All I managed to do was get myself frustrated and eventually resigned to the fact that I would need to let the unknown occur as my captor willed it to occur. Her voice had seemed calm and not deranged or evil, so I hoped that she would just have her fun and let me go as she said. She had not taken anything from the house so I guessed that she and her accomplices might return with a truck to clean me out. I hated that idea but it wasn’t a disaster as I did not keep too many expensive items in the house, and I believed that my insurance would cover much of it.

The car stopped and then she opened the door of the trunk, helping me out with her still gloved hands. She had me walk along another stone walkway and in through a doorway to a carpeted room. We kept walking with small steps until she carefully guided me down carpeted stairs and onto a cold hard stone floor. At this point, cuffed and naked in a stranger’s cold basement, I was scared almost to the point of having difficulty standing up.

During the walk and feeling her presence guide me I had a strange feeling of acceptance, not only because I had no apparent opportunity for escape but also because it was a woman abducting me. I am not saying that I had any sexual thoughts, far from it, but just that I was not truly in horrible danger. I thought about this as I walked down the stairs, about how if a man were abducting me like this I would probably try to kick the shit out of him and damn the consequences. For now, though, I just accepted the situation.

My abductor had me sit on a hard chair where she attached my ankle cuffs to the legs of the chair. Then she had me lean forward to separate my wrist cuffs from each other which she then proceeded to restrain to the arms of the chair, pulling my arms which did not offer resistance due to there not being much point to trying to struggle. My body was shaking a bit from the cold, and also maybe a bit from the fear I was feeling. She was silent all during our walk and matter-of-fact when we were at my home, and as I realized this and felt myself in restrictive bondage to a hard chair, these issues made me feel very fearful of the type of fun she was looking for. In my experience fun ladies like to laugh, joke, or otherwise show emotion, especially in unusual situations, but this lady was apparently very reserved. Or cold.

That changed a few seconds after I was restrained to the chair in her basement. To my great surprise, she removed my blindfold and I saw a wall a few feet in front of me as my back was to the rest of the room. I had been expecting her to carry out her fun without letting me see her, so that I could not identify her to the police, but apparently that wasn’t a worry to her, or maybe part of the fun she needed was to see my reaction.

She laughed when she saw my eyes wide in surprise. And then she began talking to me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as surprised as you. Did you think I would have my fun without even letting you look at me?” I nodded my head. She continued “Well, it doesn’t matter. Remember in your house when I told you that everything would be alright if you just relaxed?” I nodded again. “I lied. I’m going to torture you to death.”

She went on “We made a clean escape from your house and no-one is going to be able to trace where you were taken, so it doesn’t matter if you see me or not. You look white as a ghost. Are you feeling okay?”

This last question was stated with irony in her voice. She knew damn well that I was not okay.

She ripped the tape off my mouth.

In the span of just several seconds I went through a whirlwind of emotions. I must have mis-heard “torture you to death.” No, she spoke very clearly. She must be joking. No, she was acting completely straightforward with no hint of irony, unlike her last question in which she modified the inflection of her voice. Still, she has to be joking. No, she kidnapped me and has me shackled to a hard chair, it would not be a funny joke to mess with someone’s mind like this. But maybe that’s it. It has to be. She is a woman, she wouldn’t torture and kill anyone. She is a sort of attractive woman, too, there is no way she would want to hurt someone intentionally. Except that she just did hurt me intentionally, even if she was messing with my mind. She crossed the line a half hour ago when she broke into my home. People don’t do that for jokes. Did she go through all of that only to mess with my mind now?

And she let me see her face! That means if she lets me go now, I could identify her to the police. That means she wouldn’t just let me go. If she wanted to just mess with my mind, she would have kept my blindfold on.

I’m dead.

I felt her lift a straw to my mouth and I heard her say “Drink.” That broke me out of my momentary stupor and I felt a bit silly for potentially overreacting. After drinking water for a couple of seconds I realized that I did not overreact, she said that she would torture me to death!

When I stopped drinking I asked her in a very shaky voice “Would you mind clarifying what you meant?”

With her matter-of-fact tone she said “Yes of course” and then, while she bent over a bit to look into my eyes, she slowly articulated “I am going to torture you to death. I will cause you excruciating agony and over time you will die from the pain.” Back in her normal voice she asked “Does that provide sufficient clarification?”

I did not pay attention to the question. I could not accept her answer and stated “No.” She understood my sentiment and simply replied “Yes.” With this word I heard in her inflection of voice the devil inside of her.

I felt a wave of horror throughout my body, as though I had been dipped in acid. I needed to cling to something so I blurted “This is a joke, right?”

She must have been anticipating this question as she was ready with an answer. “Not at all. No joke, you will be screaming your little heart out shortly, and after several hours or a day you will be dead from the pain. Any last comments?”

I finally saw the humor. I thought to myself “What a stupid idiot, this is the funniest thing I have ever heard of. It’s brilliant!” I laughed. This was funnier than that time as a kid when I fell and hit my knee!

The humor only lasted a few seconds. My captor let me laugh for a bit as she stepped away to prepare something. Once I stopped laughing I felt like crying.

This is me now. I wrote the above to help me enjoy the feelings he must have had in the buildup before the fun began. I think it would be cool to get into a victim’s head to really be able to understand what he feels, but really I can only guess. Part of the fun is seeing the situation through my victims’ eyes. Once the fun begins, though, I don’t imagine that my victims are all that aware of their situations. Agony tends to override most any other feelings!

I don’t know if writing about the torture itself is going to be any fun. It might be like using a vibrator with no orgasm or screaming with no sound. But I’ll give it a try. Maybe someone reading this would be glad that I’m spending time writing instead of finding my next victim.

Lol @ at the sheep who have been brainwashed into believing that it’s wrong to hurt people. “Waaa waaa I don’t want people to get hurt!” It’s really funny. Sometimes with coworkers or the acquaintances I hang out with I make a sly comment about having fun hurting guys but they don’t take the bait and instead bring out their bleeding heart shit, or a couple of times I’ve been told that I would make a good dominatrix. Lol!! As if I would be satisfied providing pleasure to guys! I almost spit out my coffee one time, I was laughing so hard.

Actually, I have thought about being a dominatrix. It would be cool to get paid to torture guys, but once I thought about it harder it’s just another way of providing a guy pleasure. And why the fuck would I want to do that? Okay maybe the pay is good, I don’t even know, but regardless of that, it wouldn’t be worth it. I did look into it, though, because I wondered if I could find a situation in which a wife would pay a dominatrix to torture her husband as punishment for something. Maybe he cheated on her and the wife would pay me to torture the hell out of her husband. That would be a great job! Shit, I’d do that for free!

Ok, this writing about stuff is working for me. I had to take a break there for a moment because it got me hot thinking about it.

Where was I? Oh yeah, just about to start torturing this guy. I forgot to mention that this guy was drop dead gorgeous. I was almost tempted to sexually molest him but I figured that he would probably enjoy that and the next time I do something a man would enjoy … ok, I guess I do some things at my job because I have to. So nevermind.

He sure was easy to subdue and I didn’t even have to use my stun gun.

I started out with thumbscrews, which by the way are applied to all of the fingers of one hand and not just the thumbs. I usually start with that because it’s not something a dominatrix uses and I don’t want my victims thinking that this is going to be some sort of S&M session. I’ve had a few guys tell me that they would like me to torture them if they were let go and not maimed. As if! To be honest, I don’t know if they were telling me the truth or not because people say the damnedest fucked up things when I look into their eyes and tell them “I’m going to torture you to death,” which by the way is my favorite thing in the history of the universe.

I’ve asked myself why I wouldn’t enjoy torturing women but I don’t really have an answer. It probably has to do with the tiny bit of respect I have for most women, or maybe it’s because women have been tortured by men for thousands of years. Whatever. It’s not as if there is any shortage of males as victims!

Ok back on track, thumbscrews. With the spikes to puncture the nails and add to the agony. God do I love the initial screams of pain and true horror. I’m not talking about the horror of when people watch a scary movie and they jump in horror at what occurs on the screen, that’s not even in the same universe. This is absolute horror to the depths of their entire cores. I love that!

Damn I keep sidetracking myself with these other thoughts. I pretend that someone will read this and think like they might think “Well what about the blood? Doesn’t that make you squeamish?” My response is “Hey sister, blood from spikey thumbscrews is nothing compared to later!” Besides, what I really had to get over was the discomfort of hearing the joints starting to crack. Except I’m a woman so I don’t go that far, I’m just all dainty and would never hurt anyone, it’s all just play, just a mind game. Ha!!

This one started babbling interesting words between screams so I slowed up on the thumbscrew cranks. He told me he thought I was very pretty plus the usual which was that he would do literally anything I said and he had a whole lot of money to give me.

Sigh, another sidetrack. I’ve thought about robbing one of my victims so I wouldn’t have to work at my job any more but it’s too risky. For me it’s about grab, torture, and dump and anything more than that such as going back to the home to take things or trying to access bank accounts would be way too risky. Ok, so that answers that imaginary question from an imaginary reader.

Now of course I enjoy the slow cracking sounds made by the joints, I guess it’s an acquired taste. I also enjoy the begging and pleading but that gets tiring and repetitive. Still, this guy seemed very earnest in wanting to be my slave for the rest of his pathetic life. Maybe I’ll let this one live, I can chain him up and torture him over and over. Or maybe he can be my friend and we can talk about philosophy, psychology, news, or even macramé. Nah!!

I’m being silly. I never thought I’d be so silly on paper. I’m not silly in person but I guess I don’t interact closely with a whole lot of people to begin with, except ones who are screaming their lungs out in agony.

Speaking of which, his screams were starting to grate on my ears so I put a towel in his mouth. One of the things I like about thumbscrews is that once the pain begins, just another small couple of cranks and the damage is done and the screaming doesn’t stop until the guy passes out.

A pang of mercy hit me so I helped him pass out by clamping my thumb and finger around his nose so he couldn’t breathe. Ok I lied, I don’t think he felt any mercy as his eyes practically popped out of his head in horror at the thought he was going to die of suffocation. Stupid idiot, he should know that I wouldn’t just kill him like that. They never learn.

Nipple piercing is next. After I let him rest for about 15 minutes I brought out my needles and laughed when I saw his predictable facial reaction. After I removed the towel from his mouth this one was not able to put three coherent words together and his babbling was almost like having music radio on in the background while I work. I am not artist, though, and the only training I’ve had with piercing is through the school of hard knocks. I did know to anaesthetize the needles at least, although technically it wasn’t nipple piercing as much as areola piercing.

Once the rings were attached through his skin and the leash attached to the chain linking the two rings, and there was plenty of blood, I used some ice against his lips to wake him up. I usually like to hear the screaming right in my face as I work but there is something about this guy which made me not want to listen to him anymore so I had let him stay passed out.

Maybe I’m falling in love. Maybe he is so great looking and rich, and I could see in his eyes that he truly could love me for who I am. You know I’m being silly, I’ll try to stop.

Actually, I am trying to legitimately consider what someone reading this might think, hypothetically of course because this thing is just going to stay on my hard drive. Y’all are probably horrified, in fact there’s not really a probably about it.

I think that many women who would read this would, in the back of their minds, be like “Yes I would love to be able to get away with doing this but I have a barrier within me preventing this.” Well, I do not recommend for anyone to do this. Yes you read it right, I do not recommend this. People have too much of a barrier to ever take this far enough to make sense. There will always be a voice in the back of your mind thinking “I shouldn’t be doing this, I should be kind and gentle.” For most anyone who would try this, that voice would get you killed or worse every time. So kids, don’t try this at home.

Back to our suffering asshole, I can’t keep him in a chair the entire time he’s here but I can’t just let him loose and trust that he will be a good victim so I smashed his feet with a hammer. Just an ordinary hammer does the job well enough. I didn’t completely shatter all of the bones in his feet, tempting as that is, just several blows so that walking causes a lot of pain. Impact is sort of cathartic. Bam that’s for being an asshole to your high school sweetheart, bam that’s for the time you and your buddies laughed at that woman for gaining some weight, bam bam bam those are for being a fucking man in the fucking first place.

That actually felt good to type, not as good as using the hammer though.

As usual, I felt very serene after using the hammer. I made sure not to hit near his ankles so that his legs could still support him when he stood up. I let him sleep for a while and then fed him some water before he passed out again. Once he awakened again he was still in somewhat of a stupor and I fed him a protein bar.

He was able to speak but I don’t really remember exactly what he said. It was some psycho-babble to convince me to let him go but he had the usual guy sense of logic which means no logic at all. I actually enjoyed the sound of his normal talking voice, or well it wasn’t normal talking because he was going through such trauma – poor boy, hehe – it was more of a low and weak “I’ll do anything you want” type of voice while trying to hide that begging by using other words.

Hypothetical reader asks “Why wouldn’t you try to make one of them your slave? He would do anything you want.” Yes many of them would but they are already doing what I want exactly, which is to suffer. I know that many women put up a façade of tolerating what guys do or that they like guys, but men are worth nothing and I wouldn’t want any man to do anything for me other than to suffer. They can all fucking go to hell. In case you didn’t notice, I’m not one of those doe-eyed women who submit to their man. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. No really, I don’t have contempt for women who want to do whatever the hell they want to do. Whatever makes your skirt fly up, sistah.

With my victim unable to more than hobble, I detached his ankle and wrist shackles from the chair. He leapt up and ran past me, escaped to the street, flagged down a police officer, and I was put in the electric chair.

I fended off his ridiculously feeble attempts to struggle as I attached his wrist shackles behind his back. The smell of his urine on the chair and on floor between his feet didn’t bother me and that’s about par for the course anyway. This guy actually held his water, so to speak, until hammer time began. It’s hammer time!

He was able to stand with a little help from my pull on his nipple leash and after he steadied himself from almost passing out from the pain in his nipples. I don’t know that I understand the incentive to obey an order to move when you know you are going into more agony, but that’s men for ya. Actually, he was planning his escape by testing out his battered feet on the floor, it’s not an unreasonable approach. When after several steps he arrived at the table I led him to, he tried to make a run for it but it was a laughably weak attempt due to his battered feet and I easily maneuvered him onto his stomach on the table, I pulled his body forward on the table like it was a slab of meat. Rotten meat. I then attached his ankle cuffs and wrist cuffs to four corners so that he was spread eagled face down on the table.

In fact, I could be doing some woman a favor. He could be a rapist or a guy who aggressively harasses women at his work. I’m not altruistic in my motives here but I don’t really consider it a loss to this universe for some random guy to be dropped off into the off-ramp of hell. Most of you women know what I mean. Oh yeah, I know he could be the most awesomely submissive guy to his future wife and make her happy as a Goddess, but we all know the odds of that are like zero. Even the happiest wives I know really only tolerate their husbands. Ok soapbox mode off, I’m probably preaching to the choir here anyway.

As I mentioned before, I am not an artist but I do like to carve. Carving apparently isn’t as painful as some of the other things I do because my victims usually don’t scream quite as continuously, but it takes a long time for me to spell out fucking asshole on his back so I get a lot of extended enjoyment from it. I’m not good at cleaning up blood so by this point he had quite a bit of red in his color palette.

With his bare feet hanging off the edge of the table, I couldn’t help but whack the hell out of them. I use a thin stick so I’m not really doing much actual damage but from what I can tell it hurts like hell, and I get more of my aggression out doing it after the slow and careful work of carving. I’m not sure what it is about pain on the soles of the feet but my victims don’t pass out from it, maybe because the pain is not constant but quickly repeats so when they are about to pass out they are hit with the next jolt of pain. Whatever. I just know that they scream like there’s no tomorrow. And really, there isn’t.

This guy today was a jerker. I don’t mean a jerk because all guys are jerks in one way or another, usually multiple ways, and I don’t mean that kind of “jerking,” either. Shit I don’t even want to talk about guy parts. What I mean is that his body would jerk around spontaneously even when I was not actively torturing him. He was in constant agony, of course, in multiple areas of his body and that manifested in his body jerking itself intermittently. It’s really quite funny, sort of like watching a fish out of water except a fish doesn’t deserve it.

Serenity follows, because impact torture always makes me feel good, and I gave him a one-hour rest as I ate breakfast and just watched my victim, although with his body jerking from time to time and his constant moans of pain, I don’t think that he found the hour very restful. Poor guy lol.

For my next trick I demonstrated how skin reacts to fire. It’s just the small fire from a cigarette lighter but if I hold the lighter in one place it makes the funniest sounds. Oh that’s the guy making the funny sounds. I really enjoy the variety of sounds produced by fire applied to different parts of the body, such as gurgling, whining, little boy screams, and even laughing from the pain. On this guy the sounds were a welcome change from his generic sounds of screaming and I spent at least an hour with a few different lighters. I lost track of time, it may have been longer than an hour.

Next I took my big pancake spatula and turned him over on his back. Actually, I detached his cuffs from the table and flipped him over, re-attaching his cuffs so he was spread eagled face up. He jumped up and pushed me away, escaped, etc.

I pulled upwards on his nipple leash and attached it to a chain hanging from an eye bolt in the ceiling to give him some constant pain in his nipples, and then I began working on his eyes.

Now this might seem sick to some of you hypothetical readers, even some women, but I enjoy cutting guys’ eyeballs. I don’t mean chopping like an axe or sticking like a needle, I mean just small slits. It’s really interesting how the fluid of the eyeballs themselves flow and the guy sort of looks like a monster. It doesn’t really matter how he looks, though, because I’m not all that careful and usually end up giving the fatal blows during this time.

I don’t think I could describe the process in detail. Maybe next time I will talk into a recording device as I am doing it so that I can describe how the blood and eye liquid flows, blow by blow.

I guess I should probably try to take breaks between incisions so that I can try to keep the victim awake but inevitably I get so caught up in doing this that he passes out at least once during the process and I usually just keep going. I imagine how horrifying it must be for him to wake up and have his eyeballs being carefully sliced lol.

Regardless, after slicing up his eyes I’ve usually had my fill of torture for the moment and I usually let him bleed out until he dies. This guy today was lucky he didn’t look like any guy I’ve met before, because sometimes I stop the flow of blood the best I can and the guy hangs on in agony for several more hours before expiring. “Expiring” lol, what an innocuous word.

Ok, that’s the end of the fun. Once he’s dead I put my gloves back on, get a sturdy bag of some type to put him in, and then do my best to clean up all of the blood and urine, and sometimes some feces, from the chair, table, and torture implements and then I take a nice long nap. With plenty of pleasant dreams.

I drive the bag with his corpse in it to dump it somewhere, and I have a list of different places for dumping somewhere in a 300 mile radius. It’s a very serene drive with plenty of rivers, secluded woods, and other areas for a good dumping. I am sure that at some point I will need to greatly expand my dumping radius as the local news has mentioned something recently about a pattern of body dumpings, but they haven’t found nearly all of my victims.

If a victim cries in the forest but no-one is there to hear and it’s just a guy anyway, does anyone care?

Word Count = 5,800

See all my stories at http://www.assdisc.com.