Couture Capture Ch 04

Last chapter, gang. Thanks for reading.

* * *

Sixty hours ago

"I won't be home until late," Jackie said. Derek's eyes blinked open, expecting to see floating gloves or pajama sleeves. "My uniforms are in the dryer. Be a dear and hang them up for me when they're done?" He smiled and nodded. It was really nice to see her beautiful face first thing in the morning, especially after their experience the night before—even if Jackie couldn't consciously remember it.

"No problem, babe. They'll all be hung up." Like he'd have anything to do with it. As soon as they were done, they'd probably leap out of the dryer themselves and start playing exam patient with Derek. Jackie was ready for work and about to walk out the door, but he didn't care. Regardless of the futility of his plans, he was going to go back to sleep.

Jackie turned back to look at Derek, who was already fluttering back to sleep. "I love you very much, Derek." He smiled wide, never lifting his head of opening his eyes.

"Love you too," he murmured.

After she left, not only was he able to get back to sleep, but he slept longer than he expected—longer than he had in the past month. When he woke up, he did so on his own, alone.

"Hey, wow." He blinked and looked around. No clothes. No gloves. No sashes, ropes, or furniture sliding around on its own. He wanted to make it a point to be heard. "Kinda nice to sleep in. I appreciate it."

No disembodied voices answered. No drawers shuffled open. No sleep clothes or lingerie to greet him. The closet door was closed, and it stayed that way. It was a less comforting situation than he would have expected.

"Hey, um—anyone?" He snickered at himself. He was so trained that he was actually calling out to them—to do what? Get him out of bed? Dress him? Did last night's events have anything to do with it? "I get it—we're playing 'surprise the fuck out of Derek when he stops expecting it.' Okay." He sat up and swung himself out of bed, standing up and stretching.

Oh, standing up and stretching. Standing up. On his feet. Against the floor. He threw some boxers on and grabbed his robe, hanging on the hook on the closet door. Every move he made, he expected them—but nothing happened. He took a piss. He washed his face. He walked downstairs. Silence all the way.

It was a test, maybe? Jackie had asked him to hang up her uniforms. They were certainly dry now, and probably needed fluffing—it was nearly 10AM.

When he got to the laundry room, he looked through the dryer's glass door. It was empty, but there was something inside with—writing on it?

Derek,

Five days worth of clothes and whatever toiletries you need in a suitcase, please. You can ask us what they're for once you're done.

Love,

You know who

For a minute, he wanted to refuse. He wanted to shout expletives against his walls and tell them that if they wanted a suitcase packed, it was obvious they could do it themselves. It wasn't compliance or subservience that made him think twice, though—it was knowing that he could only have the information he wanted if he dropped everything he was feeling, took the note out of the dryer, and went to look for his suitcase.

"You got it," he said, shrugging. They were probably watching him right now, listening to his momentary inner tantrum subside from rational motivation. He wondered if they appreciated their own effects on him, if they got a kick out of it.

When he returned to the staircase, his suitcase was already waiting for him. It hovered, empty, over the stairs, the unzipped top flopping down and nearly touching them.

"Lead the way," Derek said. "I'm right behind you." The suitcase began hovering up the stairs, and Derek followed. "I don't expect that you'll be giving me clues in proportion to how done my chore is." Nothing. He entered the bedroom behind his suitcase, which simply hovered in the middle of the room.

Derek approached a dresser, and he was pushed back toward the bed.

"Hey, come on. If you're not going to talk to me until I follow your directions, then let me--" Another shove. Now he fell back and landed on the bed. "Well, if you're not going to--"

His sock drawer popped open. It shut him up. He tried to stand, but invisible hands held his shoulders in place. His face was turning red, but he refused to let himself snap.

"You're making me nervous, you know. This isn't fair."

"Five days, Derek. Just tell us what you need." First words he heard from the voice. Now he understood.

"Not cool," He said, tensing up a little after he did. When he didn't get a response, it only made him more nervous. "Four pairs of white socks, one pair of dark socks." The items hovered out in a line, flying over to the suitcase. "Three pairs of boxer briefs, two pairs of boxers." Another drawer opened, and the items slid themselves into a pouch. "Pair of jeans, two pairs of canvas shorts, pair of athletic shorts." More shuffling drawers. More hovering clothes to fill the suitcase. "Four t-shirts, one of them white. Short-sleeve button-down. The light one I wear to the beach—I assume you know what I'm talking about." As the closet opened, Derek finished his list. "One dress shirt, one suit, dark red patterned tie, black tie, dress shoes. Black leather belt."

He didn't know where he was going. Since he knew he wasn't going to have any of his questions answered until he finished, he simply packed the standard "out-of-town event" suitcase.

"Shaving kit, deodorant, toothbrush and toothpaste." Derek thought for a second. "You can decide if I'll need anything else—you've seen me get ready every day. I don't want to pack anything you're going to have for me." Maybe it would clue him in as to what it was planning.

No dice. The items gathered themselves and hovered into the pack, the toothbrush and toothpaste dropping themselves into a plastic bag first.

"That's it," Derek said. Five days worth of packing. The suitcase zipped itself closed, and hovered back toward the door. Derek still couldn't stand up. "Okay, so now I get to ask what this is all about, right?"

"This is about your decision," said a voice in the closet. The pink robe fluttered out with its matching camisole, panties and sheer white stockings. "You wanted to stay with us, remember?"

"I wanted to stay with Jackie," Derek said, watching the robed outfit walk toward him. "Why aren't you letting me up?"

"Try and listen, hon—and think about what you say before you say it. You chose us—twice."

"Twice?"

"You could have stopped all of this. That decision was yours to make. You were given the option, but you didn't want us to stop. That was...really encouraging." Derek's face dropped, and the robed outfit came closer—one of its sleeve reaching out toward his face. "No, darling, don't feel guilty about it. We were all so happy—so excited that you wanted us to be a part of your life." But that wasn't all. Derek knew he'd taken it a step farther—and he was even warned. "And you've come inside us."

Think twice about the kind of power you're firing into it. Is this what he'd been warned about? Had this silly technicality with an invisible pussy (as opposed—apparently—to an invisible hand or mouth, an animated glove, or a magic condom squeezing him off) been some kind of promise?

"You make me come all the time."

"You touched us—the way we touch you." And there was a dreamy sincerity in the voice there that made his hair stand on end. He was warned.

"I did?"

"You made us realize where you need to be, Derek." The suitcase, the talk, the justifications, the decision Derek made—now he could only thing of one word: binding.

"I need to be with Jackie," he protested.

"You've made your decision, sweetie." The hands keeping him in place disappeared, and as the robed outfit leaned toward him on the bed, he slid away and stood up.

"You need to tell me what's going on now," Derek said to the outfit, turning to it as he backed toward the door. "Please. You said you realize where I need to be. Where is that?"

"I can't explain it right now," the outfit said, "but it's going to take a few days, and you're going to have to trust us like you never have before." Derek kept backing away, slowly.

"See, right now I don't trust you," Derek said, "And I think that I've been a damn good sport about everything you do with me." The bedroom door slammed and locked just as he approached it. He wasn't exactly surprised.

"You've been wonderful," The outfit said, approaching him again. "This time, though, we've got to take a few precautions that might seem—drastic. You have my promise, though, Derek. You will not be harmed in any way."

Black satin rushed over his face, and his robe pulled his arms behind his back. He managed a muffled 'no' before the fabric bunched itself up in his mouth, gagging him. The hem of the fabric pulled away from his nostrils to give him unrestricted air flow, but his mouth was stuffed. A sleep mask wrapped its strap around his head and slid down over his eyes.

He felt something sliding around his feet. Despite his kicking, the garment found his toes and slid around his ankles, holding them in place as he felt denim slide up his legs, over his boxers.

Once he stopped making muffled sounds, the voice spoke.

"The gag is coming out now that you've calmed down," it said. "Cooperate, and it's the only time we'll have to do it. Understand?" Derek nodded. The wad came out of his mouth and flew away from him. "For now, one question. Push the envelope, and I don't answer it."

"You're really going to take me from my home?"

"We are, Derek. Nothing about the next couple of days is going to make a lot of sense to you, and there's not a bit I can do about it." Derek felt his robe begin to slide off his shoulders. "Comfortable t-shirt, Derek—what's your favorite one?"

"Um—red. Scary looking little cartoon rodent on it." He heard a drawer slide open, and as the robe slid off his arms, soft cotton pulled over them. Derek tried bringing one of his hands up to his face, but once the t-shirt was on, he felt hands grab his wrists and hold them out if front of him. "Is this really necessary?"

"100% precaution, Derek. I'm following orders." He felt something silky snake around his wrists and over his hands. A sash, tying him up.

"I'd love to know how someone without a body is going to get away with transporting a blindfolded captive," he let out a nervous laugh.

"Are you kidding, Derek? You have a garage."

"Yeah, but—how far are you going to get in my sedan before someone realizes: 'Hey, no one's driving!'" Magic clothes. Invisible hands. Dozens of voices at once. Who was he kidding? These were all silly human objections from a limited human perspective. He had no idea what they could do.

"We're not taking your car, Derek. We're taking mine."

"You--" He felt a finger against his lips. Did that mean-- "You have a--"

"No more talk, Derek. I've already been lenient. I'd like to believe I can take you into your garage and get you into my vehicle without needing this--" Derek felt moist fabric against his lips. It was the makeshift gag from before. "Justify my trust in you, and I'll give you more information."

He shut up. He felt himself moving through the house, back downstairs, toward the kitchen. They were doing it. They were taking him away—to where? And what about Jackie?

"You can't do this to me," Derek protested in a tone far stronger than he expected to muster. "It's not right, and what is Jackie going to--" Stuffed. As if it had been inches away from his lips the whole time, waiting for him to talk. Once it was in, he stopped making noise. He already knew he'd fucked up.

"I see the remorse, baby," A voice said. "Don't worry—I understand why you can't help yourself from snapping. I do understand. But I need to take precautions, too." He felt a hand on his face. He dared not turn from it, but he tried not to show any relief either. Which was probably worthless. He didn't want to admit it, but those last words—and the touch—were more reassuring than any captor's should be. "You've come so far now—we can't let anything get in the way. Trust us for a few days—just trust us, and I promise you'll be so much happier than you could have ever imagined."

He knew it was pointless to put up a physical fight, but he also didn't want to be comforted by the force taking him away. They could read his thoughts anyway, right? So be it. He wouldn't think about the clothes, the last four weeks, his eventual destination, attempting escape, or defying his captors. He wouldn't curse the magic clothes, his situation, or his own decisions. He would only think of Jackie.

The present

The setting sun was just under the horizon now, painting the sky warm in every direction on the calm sea. Derek hovered in the main suite, naked, pleased by the invisible force.

"Derek—why did you choose us?" What a question to be asked right now. How is it that important questions always came with scores of lubed gloves or incredible invisible fellatio? He knew he had to answer, regardless of his state of mind.

"I chose you because—you were Jackie's clothes," Derek groaned. "That mesh-shirt outfit was—damn hot—and super mysterious, but even through all of the intense magic you've shown me, Jackie's been the most important thing." No point in holding back. "You should know that by now. You know how angry I was when you took me away."

"I do know, Derek. But do you trust us now?" No tongue that can do things like this should ever be trusted—visible or invisible...

"I want to. You have to understand that I really want to. You've shown me experiences I couldn't have imagined in a dream, and for as many times as you've acted against my will, you've never hurt me, ever," he emphasized, "but Jackie's the only thing you totally refuse to talk about. It makes me nervous."

The tongue stopped swirling, the lips stopped sucking—but he wasn't released.

"Derek," the voice sounded serious. "We haven't hurt Jackie; we haven't done anything against Jackie's will—at all; and we've even given you a promise that she's not worried about you."

"But how is that possible?" Derek asked. "Why can't you just--" The mouth on his cock started up again, half the speed but double the pressure. Ten times the intensity.

"How is this possible, Derek? A force you can't see? A force you can only touch when it wants you to? How can you feel so relaxed being pleasured by this unnameable force? How could you have chosen--have consciously CHOSEN--to be in a house where this force enchants all your girlfriend's belongings? You had the opportunity to banish it, and you refused. How is that possible?" This wasn't a rhetorical question, because it had an answer that Derek kept returning to, no matter how little he wanted to admit it.

"Because I--trust you." Just as the words came out of his mouth, the lips around him detached, replaced by a soft hand.

"You've only got to trust me once more, Derek," came a whisper, "but it's more than I've ever asked."

It wasn't resignation. It wasn't a sense of futility. He was pretty sure it wasn't Stockholm.

You've only got to trust me once more

. Tautologically—it was because he trusted them that he trusted he'd only have to do it once more.

"Anything," Derek said, nearly sure he meant the word.

"I want to make love to you out there." And as the sentence flooded his ears, his weightless body was already drifting to the door of the cabin.

"You mean—on the deck."

"I mean...I want to go for a ride, fly-boy!" Just as his naked body sailed out the door, Derek felt a pair of invisible thighs straddle his midsection. His body lifted off, ten, twenty, fifty feet over the boat.

Twelve hours ago

Derek had a dream about Jackie the night before. They were both in their bedroom, snuggling between she sheets. Derek remembered looking around the room and seeing things floating astray of dressers and nightstands, furniture lifting off the ground, and even himself and Jackie lifting into the air.

In his dream, Derek reacted the way he would've before Jackie's clothes started moving around on their own. He started shouting for Jackie to wake up, bellowing about gravity being gone, worrying about what would happen to the house, yelling about not daring to go outside—and Jackie, radiant, glowing, eyes fluttering out of sleep, said the most unforgettable thing.

"Let it happen, Derek." Even in mid-air, she was able to pounce on him like a cat—like she always did. She laughed as their bodies spun in mid-air, and—Derek woke up.

Well, "woke up". He wasn't even that sure about his state of mind anymore. He'd been kept in darkness for quite a while. When all of this first started happening, he thought he was going to go nuts. If this kidnapping had been their plan all along, then they held off for a few weeks.

It was the outfit that started it. The tight black mesh shirt with painted-on jeans beneath it. For all he knew, Jackie had it for months. It could've been planning meticulously with the house and the rest of the clothes until they had the perfect plan.

But what was the plan? Clues. Hazier since the blackout and the kidnapping.

That dream, though—

let it happen, Derek

. No. That's what they want, right? Five days. They told him he'd have to trust them, and he was told to pack a suitcase for five days. He was on day three, and they'd been cycling him in and out of outfits, feeding him, taking care of bathroom breaks—all in darkness.

Derek made up his mind.

Let it happen, Derek? Fine, then. No more resistance. They said five days. They've never really lied to you. Just flow with it. Let it happen, Derek? Alrighty, brainbox; whatever you say, subconscious. From here until the end of day five, I give the clothes the chance I gave them when I made the decision to keep them around. I flow with it.

But he wouldn't be kept in darkness for two more days. This evening, he'd be on the sea, and he'd see the dusk in a way no human had ever seen it before.

The present

"We're—we're...!" Wild laughter from in front of him, and he felt something slick grind against the underside of his shaft. He groaned.

"Louder!" The voice demanded. "Let it all out, Derek—you're

flying

!" The invisible hips pushed against his own, and the underside of his shaft was coated with unseen slickness again. Fingers dug into his pecs. His arms were pulled up over his head, wrists held together by invisible force.

"I'm fucking flying!" Derek shouted, bellowing a laugh. When it slowed, he felt the warmth of an invisible body pressing against his own. A whisper sang softly in his ears as the invisible hips shifted once more—lower, lower...

"No," the voice said, pulling its invisible pussy closer and closer to Derek's tip. When his cock jumped in response, one well-aimed thrust was all it took to put him completely inside. "Now you're fucking-flying." Derek let out a low shudder, tipping his head back as the magic swallowed him up. He was bathed in warm pacific air, pink-red glow, and the most amazing rush of sensation he'd ever felt. She made him tumble over and under, thrusting herself against him as they sailed through the air.

Derek caught sight of the boat twice, but he wasn't even looking for it anymore. He let go of the thought and let the wind, the lust, and the adrenaline rush through him as he fucked this invisible form over the open water on what seemed like a roller coaster made of air.

There was no question in his mind now: this force meant him no harm--it wanted him to explore the limits of unmitigated pleasure.

He only wished Jackie was there to experience it with him. If she were at his side, it wouldn't matter if they made love in their bed, or hundreds of feet in the air. He wouldn't care if they were alone, or if a dozen of her outfits participated. Magic, no magic--Jackie was the only thing that could make this better.