Drugged And Kidnapped

Something was wrong. I struggled to open my eyes, blearily forcing myself to focus. I was in a red-panelled room, dimly lit, one I’d never been in before, with… things, on the walls. Whips, floggers, toys of all descr*ptions, most of which I couldn’t even name. It was only then that I realized I was naked, bound on my back to a table with my legs spread into a slight V in the air, wrists above my head, a belt around my waist holding me down. I lifted my head, and saw that my six-inch dick was hard and straining, twitching without my command. Why the fuck was I hard? Arousal was the last thing I was feeling! Confusion, fear, panic, yes. But not arousal.

“He—” I croaked, my throat dry and scratchy, a foreign, slightly bitter taste on my tongue. “Help!” My voice was so weak and thready, there was no way anyone would hear me, not through what I was now recognizing as sound-proof padding on the walls. What had happened to me? I couldn’t remember. I didn’t know where I was, had no idea why I was here.

Some time later—perhaps ten or twenty minutes, though I had no way to know for sure—a door opened in the wall I could see through my thighs. I hadn’t even realized there was a door, until then.

“Good, you’re awake,” a soft, seductive voice purred. I had to force myself to focus again, to see the tall, gorgeous blonde stepping into the room. Even then, I thought surely I had to be hallucinating; she was stunning, her tiny black leather bikini top barely covering her nipples on her huge, gravity-defying DD-cup tits, the matching tight black miniskirt showing off slender, toned legs that seemed to go on forever. “Do you remember me yet, Brian?”

Remember her? How could I ever forget a woman like her? I racked my sluggish brain, trying to think. I’d gone out somewhere, alone. Maggie had stayed home with the kids. But where… the client party! Celebrating the big deal we’d just closed! That was it. I’d gone to the client party, and I’d met…

“Rachel?” I asked. Yes, that was right. The amazing blonde who I’d watched sitting at the bar, turning away attempts to chat her up all night. But when I’d gone over to refresh my drink, she’d asked my name, had wanted me to sit with her. To give her a break from the guys trying to hit on her, she’d said. “You… you spiked my drink! What did you give me?”

“Oh, just a little something to help you relax, so I could bring you here,” she smiled impishly, slowly stalking closer until she was even with my hip, her sexy, four-inch heels clicking on the floor. She was seductively licking her full, pouty lips, and began to trail her pointed, lacquered red fingernails up and down the back of my thigh. “And another little something, to make sure you’d be in the proper mood for what I have planned. But I’m not talking about when we met tonight, at the party. You and I have met before. Don’t you remember, Brian?”

I shook my head in confusion. She was just exactly my type… I would never cheat on Maggie, but I couldn’t conceive of having met a woman like her and not remembering afterwards.

“I didn’t always look like this,” she continued, caressing her hand slowly down my thigh, making me shudder, and then gasp as she reached between my legs, taking my too-hard dick in her hand and gently starting to stroke. “Would it help if I gave you some context? I want you to remember me, Brian, that’s the whole point! Would it help if I told you how many times I sucked this dick?” She suddenly squeezed my shaft in her hand, making me gasp. “How many times I swallowed your cum? At least twice a week for an entire year, Brian! Would you remember me then?”

“Oh my God!” I gasped, hardly able to believe what she seemed to be saying. “Ray? Is that really you?” I stared at her face… and yes, now that I knew what to look for, behind the expertly applied makeup and incredibly skillful plastic surgery, I could see it was true.

“There we go! I knew you’d remember!” She grinned wickedly, releasing my dick and using both hands to fiddle at the side of her skirt.