He undressed me? The blush mottling my neck crept slowly upwards to my cheeks. He had touched me when I was unconscious and seen my naked form. I shouldn't have been so embarrassed given that his fingers were penetrating me mere moments ago and were currently threatening millimetres away from further insertion. However, the invasion of my privacy, without my consent or knowledge was infuriating and mortifying at once.
"You needn't be embarrassed Amelia. You have a beautiful body. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the small patch of hair above your pussy. I plan to ravish you when you're ready and willing. We can enact all of those forbidden fantasies you shared with me night after night. Wouldn't you like that little one?" He stared into my eyes holding my gaze, gauging my reaction as he slowly inserted a single digit to return to the tunnel of fabric he had created as he pressed inwards towards the warmth of my pussy.
I revealed nothing. He wanted a reaction. I wouldn't dignify him with one. Instead, I shifted my body to deflect his touch. "I don't understand. You're in tech. How did you accomplish this?"
"I'm wealthy. As I told you at the club, I developed apps when I was younger that I sold for large sums of money. I fund start-ups now. Hacking you was not difficult. A VPN doesn't afford you as much privacy as you think it does Amelia, neither does using an online phone number. It was easy enough to hire a private detective to surveil you and place cameras in your apartment. I knew very early on in our conversations that you were special. You and I share so many kinks. I had attempted to approach you earlier at the grocery store, at the bookstore, on the street, near the university, at the mall. You were entirely immersed into your own world that I didn't register on your radar. The club was the first successful attempt. I wouldn't have abducted you had you been able to take the first step. But you bolted towards familiarity at the first opportunity. I needed to show you who you are."
Gabe was delusional if he thought I'd express gratitude for kidnapping me. He repeatedly emphasized the public service he was doing for me. Who was he to play Clotho to my fate?
"It's not too late to release me Gabe. I don't know where we are. I know nothing about you," I bargained with him. "You can blindfold me, gag me, drug me, drop me on a random street corner. I won't tell. There would be nothing identifiable or traceable to you. You would just be a spectre that never existed, except in my unverifiable imagination. I promise. I won't make trouble for you. How can I? I don't know who you are," I emphasized to him. My eyes made a silent plea to his humanity.
Gabe gazed at me wistfully. "My sweet naïve Amelia. I'm in it for the long haul. I wouldn't have gone to these lengths if I wasn't. I didn't want to use this apartment as I thought last night I would successfully coax you out of your inhibitions. You can either accept your situation now and make your life infinitely more pleasurable, or eventually come to accept your circumstances. I'm a patient man. I will wait for your acquiescence. You need not worry about your apartment. I'm paying the monthly rent. In a few days I'll email your friends pretending to be you, notifying them that you've decided to take a last-minute trip to Europe. I'll email work requesting time off. You will not be reported as missing. You can rest assured I will not hurt you."
His words cut through the cold silence of the room.
"You already have," I whispered.
My tears ran unbidden down my face. He wasn't releasing me. He intended to wrench me permanently from the comfortable life I had built. While it wasn't much, it was still a life I had forged independently and proudly. I may not have been wealthy, but I worked hard for every possession I owned, every relationship I formed, and every promotion I earned. I had aged out of the foster system, a rarity for an Asian girl, according to the coordinator. Usually, "our type" was adopted quickly. I wasn't sure if I should have looked at the coordinator with disdain for her racist stereotyping, or lament that I wasn't even good enough to be adopted. I had no recollection of my biological family. Supposedly, I had been abandoned as a seven-year-old and had required intensive psychological and medical intervention. I wasn't even verbal when I was found. By the time I was deemed adoptable, I was too old for most couples to be interested in. My remaining years in the system saw me floundering from foster home to foster home. I was never abused in those homes. I was simply treated with indifference.
Afterwards, I fought to put myself through university, applying for every scholarship, and working part time, eventually to graduate. I secured a job at the university administration helping graduate students in the funding department. My friends frequently supported me in times of duress, of which there were many. While my apartment was furnished with thrifted furniture, it was mine. When I hosted my housewarming, I owned one table, one sofa, and one chair. My friends never complained about my meagre belongings. They sat on the floor beside me and praised me for how proud I should feel that I was finally in my own space. They loved the "eclectic and minimalist look" I decorated with.
All of the hallmarks of my life and struggles, now obliterated by a man who wanted to control me because he thought he knew better than me.
I crushed my body against the sofa as I sobbed hyperventilating breaths of anguish. He closed the gap between us and held me, reassuring me with small shushing sounds and caresses down my arm as if I were a small child, or a petrified animal cornered. I thrashed within his embrace, trying to dislodge his capture of me. I refused his reassurances. His touch scorched like acidity to my skin.
"Get off me," I shrieked. "Get your vile hands off of me, you disgusting, deceitful, fraud. You're nothing to me. You're less than nothing." I headbutted his chest with as much force as I could muster. He looked at me with surprise before grasping my chin painfully tight.
"I understand you're scared Amelia. You're in fight or flight mode. But such displays of defiance will not be tolerated in the future. I'm providing you with a warning now. I'm a generous and understanding dominant. Don't think that I won't punish you when necessary." He released my chin and sat back, crossing his legs and detachedly picking at the seam of his dress pants, as if daring me to defy him right there.
"Fuck you Gabe and fuck your surveillance. You're a fucking kidnapper is what you are. Don't pretend otherwise." I fought violently against my bonds and fell off the sofa with a thud onto my back. A groan escaped my lips as the hardness of the metal handcuffs pressed painfully into the small of my back. I bucked my body upwards trying to reposition myself. I could only squint at Gabe's bent over form through tears as he loomed over me. My irregular hitches and gasps for breath eventually subsided. I turned my head to the side. I couldn't even face Gabe. I didn't know what else to say to him.
I tried one last tactic. "What about consent Gabe? BDSM is all about consent. You don't have my consent," I sniffled out. Desperation underwrote every bargaining word from my mouth. "Please just release me. You could drop me back at my apartment and we can go out on a date. Now that I know you're a Dom, we can try things. You can help me realize my true self. I feel like I know you already through El." I was babbling frantically, grasping at any possible glimmer. "You know that I wouldn't report you. It would be too embarrassing on my end."
Gabe simply looked down at me. A long pause of silence lingered between us. It conveyed an unspoken truth, confirmed when Gabe stroked my jawline slowly, before picking my now supine form and returning it to the sofa. Gabe wasn't going to entertain the possibility of releasing me. Gabe didn't need my consent. I was already his, taken by deception, kept by force. My repeated attempts at negotiation were for nought.
My shoulders sagged as the tears again flowed freely from my watery eyes down my cheeks. My strangled breaths hiccupped out of my mouth. He mercifully allowed me to cry uninterrupted as the reality of my imprisonment bore down on my psyche fully. He blotted my red-rimmed eyes with a silk handkerchief from his pocket. His thumb traced the contours of my lips, pushing into my mouth. I gritted my teeth tight, disabusing him of the notion that he could ram whatever appendage into whatever orifice he wanted.
He chuckled at my inconsequential act of defiance. His hand skimmed down the front of my t-shirt before skirting under the hem and unexpectedly yanking it roughly upwards, pulling the collar over my head, and trapping it behind my neck. His action threw me off. His hand traced the prickled flesh of my abdomen. I kicked my legs forward trying to unseat his hand from reaching my exposed breasts, without success. Gabe only pinched my nipple in response and kept tightening his grasp until I yelped in pain and stopped fighting against his touch. His hand settled on the underswell of my breast, cupping it in his warm hand as his thumb traced over my nipple until it stiffened from his efforts. I gasped as he brought his tongue down and circled the erect bud.
