Crystal's StorySite storysite.org

 

My Kidnapping Fantasy

by Hiliary Mariadubh nicSeamus

 

(Sample Of First Day)

 

ENTRANT

I try to  shift  my body to take some of its weight off of my trapped arms - no luck. I soon discover that I am strapped-down to whatever surface I  am lying on. I also discover that not only am I strapped down,  but when I try to stretch my legs to relieve a cramp, I find that  my thighs  and ankles are strapped together, leaving me spread in  a

most revealing and obscene manner. Attempts to shake my head  to relieve  a  cloying, suffocating sensation fails  as padded  restraints keep my head fixed in a face-up position. I don't  even try to cry out since the packed sensation in my mouth, as well as extreme, near jaw-breaking aches tell me that an extremely  severe and effective gag is at work. As I lie here, I think-back to how this started.

 

A WISH - A FANTASY

For years I played with the  fantasy of being kidnapped and held against my will until my captors decided to free me. I experimented  with cross-dressing and self-bondage, but  the  end results were at the best mixed and semi-satisfactory. No  matter how  restrictive I made my self-bondage I always left a means  of escape. While this was just plain common sense at work, I quickly  realized that this wasn't enough -- I had a means of  escape. What  I  wanted/needed was to experience the  reality  of  being restrained  without any means/hope of escape. In desperation  I tried dominants, etc., but also no luck. The totally professional  dominants wouldn't touch the fantasy, and the  others  ranged from  bored with the idea to totally scary in their ideas of  how to fulfill it. Finally I wrote to the editors of "  " and " ". While  neither of these editors would come out and tell me who to contact,  their  letters gave  me enough clues so that I was able to eventually contact  a spokesperson  for a group that would (for a price)  carry-out  my fantasy. After much discreet correspondence, I met with a spokesperson  for  the group and finalized the  arrangements.  For  an agreed-upon  sum  of  money I would be kidnapped  within  a  given time-span and held in strict, severe bondage, as a female, for  a period of three days to two weeks. Limits were agreed upon as to what could and could not be done to me, how I was to be  treated, etc.  It  was stressed that while I could use a code  signal to terminate  and  end the session/fantasy, THAT WOULD BE  IT.  THE FANTASY WOULD BE OVER - KAPUT - FOR GOOD. And no refund would be made  on money for time unused. I would know the contact  person only by alias or first name and sight, and I would never know the others  by any means. It was agreed that unless I gave the  quit signal, this was to be conducted as a real kidnapping - my comfort would  be of no consideration at all - only total  and complete control over me would be considered. These (among other  things) were  agreed  upon and a cashier's check made-out to  "CASH"  was handed over. All was ready.

I sat in my living room dressed in my femme finest, I realized that this was it. I looked at the two small cases by my feet  and knew that soon their contents would be all  that  would matter  to me for the duration of the fantasy. I chuckled  as  I thought  of  what my family and friends would think/say  if  they knew  how I planned to spend my vacation. Hearing a car horn,  I looked  out  the window and saw a dark van that matched  the  description I had been given. Turning off the lights and  picking-up the cases I left the house, locking the doors after me. Now I was committed, since I had no keys or money. All I had with  me was an ID that would, two weeks from now, allow me to pick-up  an envelope containing my keys and money marked "% General Delivery" that was being held for me at the Post Office. Teetering slightly on  my  heels  I walked to the van. With  some  apprehensions  I placed  my  cases in the back of the van and took a seat  in  the van.  As  we  drove off, I noted that there was  a  dark  screen between me and the driver and the windows were  opaque  so  I couldn't see out. As per instructions, I wasn't wearing a watch.

No  radio was playing and I didn't have one in my  luggage.  The driver  gave  me detailed instructions as he drove: I would  be dropped-off at a motel - Registration, etc. all taken care of. I am not to leave the room for any reason. Meals will be delivered and room service will not come-into the room due to instructions, I will have to do the required bed making, cleaning, etc.. I  am to  leave the door unlocked at all times and if I am awake and  I hear a knock at the door, I am to seat myself with my back to the door. There will be no clock, radio, television or newspapers in the  motel. I will find a mild sedative with each meal.  It  is strongly recommended that I use them. The instructions continued in this vein until we came to the motel. My heart sank as I  saw my temporary home - Down at the heels, decrepit, only the  office and a unit at the end of the farthest wing were lit up. And that unit is where we went. Leaving the van, carrying one of my cases (the  other wouldn't be needed until later, if then) I enter  the unit. Looking around I discover that it isn't too bad. Old, but neat  and  clean.  Not as comfortable  as  home,  but  adequate. Closing  the  door  after myself, I sit down and  eat  the  snack provided.  After  undressing for bed, I take the  sedative  that was  provided.  So  it went for the next couple  of  days.  The sedatives  kept me at a low key, and when the meals  were  delivered,  I  followed the instructions and sat with my back  to  the door.  Finally, it happened. After eating dinner and taking  the sedative, I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Coming  out, I sat down and picked-up the book I was reading. All of a sudden all  I  knew  was that a cloth smelling of ether  or  some  other chemical  was pressed over my face blocking-out all light, and  a strap was being passed around my arms and torso. As I struggled, everything began to fade and went black.

 

A VICTIM OF ? ? ?

I am temporarily blinded as the cloth covering my face is pulled-off.  When my eyes adjust to the light I see in a mirror over  me exactly how I am. Beside the arm binder (I  immediately note  how the shoulder straps cross the chest before going  under the binder in place) I see that there is no way I can move - except my legs. I can bring them up and together  at  the knees, but as soon as the muscles tire  they  quickly fall-back into the splayed position. I also note that my head is totally  encased  in a skin-tight discipline helmet  with  zipper closures  for  the mouth and eyes, and at present  only  the  eye closures are open. I note that my hair has been gathered-up into a  tail  and passed-through the hole in the crown of  the  helmet provided for this purpose. I also note in the mirror that another cloth  is draped from where it is fastened at my  neck  down, over my torso, between my ankles and down the plank I am strapped on to keep my crotch covered no matter how much my legs close  or splay open. My body is secured with straps every 4-6" from  neck to  waist, and any attempt to shift my ankles tells me that  they too are somehow secured to the plank. No matter how hard I  try, I  cannot  see beyond the mirror that is hanging over me.  I  am back-lit  in such a way that only my body is lit  up,  everything else  is dark. I have no way of telling how long I lay here.  I can't  hear anything, so I assume that ear plugs, cotton and  wax are  being used to seal my ears and deprive me of  hearing.  The distended  sensation in my nostrils (and lack of  smell)  confirm what  I  see in the mirror. A short pair of tubes  go  into  the nostril holes of the helmet and are obviously inserted up into my nasal  cavity.  From my puffed cheeks and the  bulge  under  the zipper  of  the mouth closure it is obvious that  my  gagging  is strict and complete. It is almost with a sense of relief that  I see  a pair of gloved hands reach under the mirror and  pull  the cloth away from my torso and crotch. From waist down, the  first thing I notice is that I am totally naked. Secondly, I see  that my thigh-ankle straps are connected by a double spring-clip to  a ring  in the end of the arm binder.
I quickly discover why  I  am bound  and exposed the way I am. Another pair of hands,  wearing latex  examination gloves reaches under the mirror,  grasps  and stretches  my penis and masturbates me until I climax.  This  is repeated  over and over until I can no longer cum, and the  whole experience  is agony. Then I see a long swab that is  dripping some solution it had been dipped into positioned just inside  the slit  at  the end of my urethra. With a firm shove the  swab  is almost  totally buried in my urethra. In spite of the gag, I  am certain my shriek of agony was clearly audible. When I am  again able  to see straight I notice that a thin hose has been  slipped into the free end of the swab. As the swab is slowly extracted I see the shaft of the swab (obviously it is hollow) travel up  the tubing. Finally the swab is free and I realize that the tube  is a  catheter.  This  is confirmed when a  hypodermic  syringe  is inserted  into a small channel on the side of the tube.  As  the plunger  of  the  syringe is depressed, I  experience  a packing sensation  in my bladder. A tug on the end of the tube  confirms that a balloon at the end of the catheter has been inflated in my .bladder,  and until it is deflated, that catheter is in to  stay. I moan  as my  testes are pressed back into the iombic canals they  had  descended from in puberty. But as soon as skin of the scrotal  sac is tightly wrapped around the shaft is then totally covered  with tape from the base of the glans to where my scrotium and crotch meet. my penis is then tucked into the pocket so formed and more tape applied to retain it inside. Now I can only watch and moan as  my  encased penis is bent under my crotch until it is tight against  my pelvis.  It  is with relief that I see and feel my  penis  being released,  and  I  watch as a thong is used to  secure  my  penis across  my lower abdomen, leaving access to my crotch  free.  

Now two  pair of gloved hands reach-in and splay my legs  until  they are  parallel  to the floor. I see/feel the straps they  use  to keep  them pulled-apart in this manner. I can only watch as  one hand reaches in with a gob of something on the index finger. The finger  is  carefully rotated around my sphincter  and  after  my sphincter relaxes enough to give access to the finger tip, a firm thrust  buries the finger to the top knuckle in my  rectum.  For several moments my anus is massaged until there is no  sensation. The  glob obviously contains a topical anesthetic. Now I see  a duckbilled  speculum (also lubricated) being brought  into  view, positioned at my rectum and slowly inserted. As the jaws of  the speculum are expanded, opening me up, the anesthetic only  allows a  dull  sense of discomfort to be felt. When  the  speculum  is opened  to the desired range I see what is obviously a  retention plug/catheter  being brought into sight. In seconds the  end  of the catheter with the uninflated balloon is buried in my  rectum. Now I see a Miller double-cuff being slid down the catheter until it is properly placed. Then the speculum is collapsed and withdrawn. Again, I feel the sensations of being stuffed as hypodermic syringes of water are used to fill the balloon on the  catheter  and the Miller cuff. Now there is insurance that  not  only will  the catheter remain inside me, but that until  the  release tube  on  the  catheter is opened (ie  the  check-valve  opened), whatever is pumped inside of me (as well as a normal  evacuation) will  remain inside of me (a similar check-valve is on the  penis catheter).

I  feel a fumbling underneath me, and  suddenly  from below the shoulders down I am only supported by the traps keeping my knees splayed-out. I watch as the hoses from my catheters are  gathered together, passed through a small hole in a  strap.. My  penis is again bent under my crotch until it is flat  against my  pelvis and the strap tightly fitted to my crotch. The  loose end  is secured to a strap around my waist and the "click"  of  a lock  insures I will remain this way. In seconds the support  of the  plank is restored and my legs and torso are freed enough  to allow  my panties, pantyhose, panty brief, etc. to  be  restored. My  ankles and knees are secured by straps and additional straps are used to secure my legs to the plank.

Now the hands reach  for the  zipper  closure on my helmet. When it is opened  I  see  a check-valve pop up. Now I understand my gag - it is an inflate able gag. The check-valve is opened and the gag slowly deflates, easing the  tension on my jaw muscles. Suddenly  the  valve  is shut-off and a padded tube is pressed against the opening of the mouth closure (it barely clears the closure and I have to  struggle to open my mouth wide enough to allow it to be placed in my mouth. This done, the inflatable gag is again opened and totally deflated and removed. I watch as a funnel is inserted into  the tube. A sign is held in front of me telling me to swallow everything  that is put into the funnel. They are kind -  the  funnel has  a capacity of 2 cups, they pour into the funnel in  1/2  cup amounts  a vile-tasting liquid that quickly deadens all sense of feel and taste in my mouth and throat. After what seems to be a gallon of the stuff being poured into the funnel (really only  2 cups  -  4  1/2 cup quantities are poured into  the  funnel)  the

funnel is removed and another balloon catheter is inserted,  this time  into my mouth. Another card is held in front of me and  it tells  me to start swallowing and to continue swallowing until  I am  told to stop. As I feel the catheter press against the  back of  my  throat,  I quickly comply and am gratified  that  my  gag reflexes  are  greatly numbed. After a few moments of Marathon-Quality Swallowing I feel something pass through my lower throat and I continue to swallow until it seems as if I have swallowed a mile of the catheter tubing. A new card is now placed in my sight and it tells me to stop swallowing.  I  can only watch as again  a  water-filled  hypodermic syringe  is  used to insure that the catheter can't  be  removed. Now  an inflatable donught is slid down the tube of the  catheter and  into  my mouth. After it is emplaced, the  padded  tube  is removed  and and the donught is inflated until my mouth is  again packed to a jaw breaking degree. A cap is put on the end of  the catheter  and  it is folded-over next to the check-valve  of  the inflatable  doughnut. An ordinary foam eye-patch  is  placed-over the  hardware. Two sets of hands reach under the  mirror.  One pair presses against my chin and top of my head, partially  closing  my  packed mouth. The other closes the zipper  closure  and then secures the strap from under my chin to the top of my  head, taking  some  strain off of the zipper closure.

To  my  distress, they  aren't finished with me. I can only watch as both sets of hands  (hard to think of them as people) simultaneously insert a pair of thinner tubes into my nasal tubes. I  see that these tubes have a semisolid tip and I quickly feel them being  passed-through  my nasal passages and sinuses until they invade my  trachea. Again, after the solid tips are pulled-out via a cord,  I can  only  watch as hypodermic syringes insert water  to  inflate small restrainer balloons in my trachea. I can only watch as the two  gavages are joined into a single "Y" tube and a  check-valve inserted into the stem end. One set of hands adjusts the  check-valve  until  I  can't breathe. As soon as  my distress  became obvious  the check-valve is slowly opened until my  breathing  is almost normal - almost normal breathing, not normal breathing - a slight but constant reminder that even the breath of life is out of  my control. I didn't need any instructions as to what to  do when  I  see an eye patch being lowered toward my left  eye  -  I close it fast and can only watch from my right eye as the  patch is pressed  into place against my closed eye and  secured there when the zipper closure is sealed. Ditto for my right eye.

Now I began to wonder "what will happen," only to find the answer. I feel the straps securing me to the plank being released and  then I am lifted and lowered face-down onto something that is slightly yielding, and I also feel leather against the portions of my body that are still able to sense it. I quickly feel something being wrapped around me from neck to ankles. It isn’t until I realize that I am being laced into a body binder. How long it  takes to  lace me in I don't know, but when the repeated  lacings and tightening are complete, and a stiff posture-collar is around my  neck  and the top portion of the body binder - I  am  totally unable to move. I am placed face-down on a firm surface with  my feet  hanging off the lower end, and my head is turned so that  I am  laying on the right side. Straps not only secure me to the surface,  but  there is one that goes under the arch of  my  feet pressing  me  against  the surface to completely  insure  that I cannot  move (There's even a strap across the instep and sole of my 4" heels, pressing my feet tight against the edge of what I am on. Another strap goes from the top of my helmet to the edge of what  I  am strapped on. Other straps insure I am  pressed  flat against  the surface that I am on.

Barely able to breathe due to the check-valve, as close as I possibly can be to sensory deprivation  -  considering how I am bound - catherized so that no bodily function can be performed without outside approval, I  can only wait and see how my fantasy will work out. But then, this is my fantasy - or is it . . . . .?

 

 

 

*********************************************
1987 by Hiliary Mariadubh nicSeamus. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.