This post is intended for an adult audience.
Content warning: cnc, kidnapping
You first heard about me from some of your kinky friends. They said you should talk to me, but were pretty evasive on any further details.
You looked me up on Fetlife. You noticed we live in the same area and we have a bunch of mutuals, but strangely you’ve never seen me at any munches. You reached out to me.
We started with some casual conversations about fetishes and ethical frameworks. But pretty soon I asked if you’d be interested in doing a scene with me, and we got into the nitty gritty of discussing limits. You’re pretty kinky, aren’t you? You’re ok with group play with strangers, as long as they’ve all recently been tested. You’re ok with being filmed. You’re ok with psychological scenes. Pain play, abandonment play, free use, a real kinky slut.
Before you know it, you’re stepping out into the state forest, the Uber driving away down the access trail. You’re wearing a light sundress, but the weather is mild and the breeze feels pleasant against your skin. You look at your phone and pull up the photo I sent you, showing you the exact meeting place. You look around, and walk a short distance.
A few minutes later, your phone rings. You answer, and it’s me.
“Hey, I just wanted to go through some last minute checks. You are
Alright I’m really sorry but I’m running a little late, I’ll be there in 30 minutes. Sorry about that. Anyway, after this call ends I’ll be in character. Anything more you want to say? No? Alright, see you soon.”
Now that you’re standing still, the air feels like it’s taken on a slight chill. Not enough for you to be uncomfortable, but enough that you’re aware of it. (And so are your nipples.) You start to drink in the sounds of the forest, and in doing so you begin to feel small. Humans are used to considering themselves above nature, but now that you’re outside of the sterile, safe urban environment and without a vehicle, you realise how large the forest is and how small you are within it.
You hear a stick snap behind you, and spin around. You can’t see any signs of movement, nothing out of place. There have always been rumours about kidnappers lurking in this forest, but you calm your fears. They’re just scary stories for kids, your fear isn’t rational. The stick must’ve been broken by an animal, you guess. You’re unfamiliar with the environment and how sounds carry, so you can’t even estimate how far away the sound was. Maybe it was off in the far distance.
You turn back towards the road, and jump. On the other side of the road there’s a ghillie-suited, masked person walking carefully towards you. The adrenaline hits and your brain kicks into overdrive. You’ve only been waiting 5 minutes, and I said I’d be there in 30. This person has clearly been here for a while, as you haven’t heard any vehicles since your Uber left. Who are they?
Running away along the road would be the easiest thing to do, but you’ve never been a good runner. You’re certain this person would catch you. But you’ve got some agility, so perhaps if you duck and weave enough you’ll be able to lose them in the bush. You spin on one foot, deliberately overbalancing as you do so. Then you kick off, using your displaced centre of gravity to quickly lunge into a sprint.
You can hear the footsteps pursuing you. They aren’t gaining on you, but you aren’t losing them either. Fear provides you more energy, and you force yourself to run faster. To run more frantically, more carelessly. Your sundress snags on branches and brush, but it’s made of a light material and parts of it rip off without slowing you down. There’s a crest ahead, and you figure if you can make it over that you can probably sprint, slide, and skid down the other side at a good pace. You’re probably more desperate to get away than your pursuer is to catch you, so hopefully they won’t be so willing to risk injury and you can lose them.
But then ahead, you see three more camouflaged individuals rise from seemingly nowhere. You make a swift course correction to the left, but a fifth figure appears there too. And now they’ve got you surrounded. They close in. There are 5 of them and one of you. Not only that, but you’re weak. Probably any one of them could’ve overpowered you without breaking a sweat. Against all 5 you have no chance.
Roughly holding each of your limbs, they carry you over the crest and down the other side. They carry you further and further into the bush.
Your phone rings. One of your captors grabs it. They answer it, deftly muting the microphone and putting it on loudspeaker.
It’s me. “Hey uhhh, we’re at the rendesvous point and we can’t find you. Did you get cold feet? Or were you wasting our time from the start? Was this your idea of a prank?” The captor hangs up the call.
You’d been clinging to the hope that one of these captors was secretly me, that the whole thing had been an elaborate mind game. That seems unlikely now. But part of you still wonders… You could find out easily at any time, you could use your safe word. But… do you really want this to stop? You have to admit to yourself that you enjoyed the thrill of the chase, enjoyed the despair of being captured, and are still enjoying the feeling of powerlessness and lack-of-control. You’re even enjoying the uncertainty: is this consensual non-consent, or is it just straight up non-consent? Are you in danger? It thrills you.
Your captors come to a clearing. There’s a pile of sharpened branches and a mallet next to them. One of them grabs a branch that’s sharpened on both ends, and using only his hands shoves it upright into the dirt. Only about 30cm of it protrude from the earth. The remaining four captors forcibly bend you over the spike. They each pin one of your limbs, holding you face-down ass-up. You engage your core muscles to avoid the spiked stick.
In the edge of your vision, you see a sixth masked figure emerge from the bushes. The two assailants not pinning your limbs grab more stakes, and using the mallet they drive them into the dirt diagonally around your neck, wrists, and ankles.
The people pinning your limbs retreat, and you find that you are firmly held in place by these triangles of wood.
Your captors toy with you. They use long grass to tickle you. They pour water over your head and force your face into the mud. They cane your exposed ass with a thin stick. Then with a thick one. They pinch, pull, suck, and bite on all of your protrusions. They tease, finger, and fuck all of your intrusions.
You can’t help but feel pleasure from what they’re doing, but they never do the same thing for long enough for that pleasure to build into an orgasm. You are kept frustrated, unable to anticipate their fickle touches and abuses. It’s obvious they don’t care about your pleasure, they just like provoking your reactions.
One roughly turns your head to the side, pins it down, and facefucks you. It’s an awkward and uncomfortable angle, but they don’t care. The others keep beating you, rubbing you, penetrating you, prodding, twisting, stretching, stroking.
You can’t gather your thoughts. Are you overstimulated or understimulated? You’re desperate and it shows. You’re rocking back and forth, trying to hump the air. They One end has been whittled into a rounded shape, and it looks like it’s been sanded too. It’s wide, much wider than the other branches. It scares you a little bit, but you understand the message you’re being given.
You beg. Not verbally, the sounds you’re making could not be considered speech. But your moans and whimpers and eyes do the begging for you. In their manerisms, you can tell the person holding the improvised dildo wants and expects more from you. You give up more of your dignity. Tears run down your face, and your whimpers turn to sobs. Your eyes are hungry. You have never needed something this much before in your life. You aren’t even human any more, you’re a creature with a single evolutionary purpose, a brain that can only hold one thought. Your entire reason for being is that dildo.
You feel the dildo pushing against your starving hole. It’s so big. You shy away from it. It’s pushed with some pressure, but it’s not going in. You want your captor to push harder, but they keep holding it firmly in place. They expect you to do this yourself, to show that your need outweighs the pain. You push against it as hard as you can, straining against your restraints. It slides in and you gasp.
You lie there panting, breathless. It’s in. But it’s still. You start rocking back and forth, rhythmically tilting your hips and grinding. Your breathing gets even faster. Your movements are becoming less controlled. Each time you rock too far forward or backward, you feel the sharp stick against your belly. You don’t care. Faster and faster, more and more. You’re finally going to be able to cum. You’re so close. You hope you’re providing enough amusement to your captors for them to let you finish. The thought of that dildo, your lifeline, being taken away gives you a renewed desperation and you fuck it even more frantically.
Your circular thoughts, your mantra, your desire, your purpose, it speeds up in your head until it blurs together into a single incoherent thought. It grows in brightness, your head a pure white glow of incomprehensible pleasure and needfulness.
When you regain your senses, you are still bound. You have slumped in your restraints, and you’re gradually becoming more and more aware of the pain of the point pressed against your stomach.
One of your captors squats down beside your head. I remove my mask and ask you “how was that, sweetie? did you have fun?”
Later, you find yourself in a campervan, chilling with 6 people you’ve never met before. We’ve helped get you all cleaned up, we’ve given you fresh comfy clothes. You’re sitting on a thin mattress, but it’s the softest thing you’ve ever felt in your life. I’ve got a laptop, and I’m pulling in footage from all the GoPro SD cards. Some were mounted to our chests, and others were placed around the bush and clearings like trail cams.
On the screen, you can see me lying in the bushes with binoculars, watching the rendesvous point. You see yourself arrive, you see yourself answer the phone. I’ve got the recorded audio from the phone call, you can see your lips mouthing the words. Once I’ve confirmed that we’re looking at the right person and re-confirmed your consent, you can hear me radio the others to commence the operation.
You see me desperately chasing you. But to your surprise, when the others pop up from the crest, I hide behind a tree. One of my friends pops up and takes my place. I spend a few minutes catching my breath, and then start walking over to join you and the others in the clearing. I guess this is ruining the magic a little.
We have a two hour drive back to the city. You spend this time curled up in my arms, helping me to edit the movie.
