As I slowly opened my eyes, I could truthfully say I had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on - and this was on top of a very strange day anyway.  The last thing I remember was waving to Diane as I left the coffee shop, carrying my purchases with me, and going to take the lift to the car park.  After that - well, it’s all a bit of a blur.


Today, you see - it’s my birthday, and I had my day all planned out.  Morning shopping, lunch with my flatmate Diane, come home for chill out time, and then meet my friends at a restaurant later.  Nice, simple, straight forward, and definitely nothing in there about blacking out, or waking up in...


Where was I anyway?  Wherever it was it was dark, and I was lying on something soft.  Maybe if I just bring my arm out from where I am lying on it, I can find a light switch and...


Oh - that’s not good, that’s not good at all.  I just tried to move my left arm, and discovered my right arm was coming along with it.  Which means they are secured together, which means somehow I’ve got my hands tied together behind my back?


Tied together with some sort of tape, I think, given the cold smooth feeling I’m getting from my fingers as I try to touch my wrists.  I lie still for a moment, allowing my eyes to start to adjust to the dim light, and try to recall exactly what happened.


I got to the lifts at the mall.  As I Was standing there, tapping the toe of my very expensive leather boots on the ground, I remember this man walking up and standing beside me.  He was cute - tall, broad shouldered, nice smile - so I looked at him and smiled before we got into the lift.


I pressed the button for the floor I wanted, and then...  And then...


Right - I knew I had got as far as the lift, but after that is still a bit of a blur.  All I know for now is that my hands are secured behind my back, and I keep hearing a squeak when I try to move my legs.  Well, of course I would - if my hands are tied, then it stands to reason my ankles are as well.


As my eyes fully adjust, I look down and see the white rope against the burgundy red leather of my knee length boots.  Great - bound, not only around my ankles but my legs as well, and that wine has left my mouth feeling as if it has cotton wool stuffed in it.


Hang on - it DOES have something stuffed in it.  I just tried to talk, and all I heard instead of “Is there anybody there?” was “Sthr nubdy thr?”  Great - little rich girl me has been kidnapped.  Either that or someone is playing a very bad practical joke on me.


Mind you, it’s not as if I‘ve never fantasised about this sort of thing - what girl hasn’t?  I just never thought it was going to happen to me...


Calm down, Becky, calm down - take yourself through today.  I got up, showered, ate, and put on the clothes I’m wearing now - a black tank top, tight blue jeans, my boots and the matching leather jacket, which I no longer seem to be wearing.  I suppose I should be grateful at least for that, but for what else?


I read my e-mails, looked at some cards, and then went for lunch.  So far so good - I’m in the lift, I press the button and then there was this sting in my neck...


That’s it - I must have been injected with something and by the guy in the lift - the guy who has just walked into the room, pushing a trolley”


He still looks cute, even with the stocking pulled over his face, as he looks at me and strokes my brown hair away from my face.  “Hello, Becky,” he says in a calm quiet voice, “I’m your kidnapper for today.  Call me Jonathon.  Now, would you like a drink of water?”


All right, so I’ve been kidnapped.  Great, fantastic, wonderful - but why?  To get money from my parents?  To get me?


However, my mouth is as dry as the beach at Southport, so I nod as he helps me to sit up.  Reaching behind my head he fiddles with something and I feel the cloth in my mouth been taken out.  He’s used a black bandana, rolled into a band with a knot tied in the middle - a very wet knot at the moment.


“Here - drink slowly,” he says as he holds a bottle of water with a straw in it n front of me, and I gratefully take on as much liquid as I can.  Only when I have satisfied myself do I answer the burning question in my mind right now.


“Who the hell are you and what the hell do you think you’re doing?”


“I told you, Becky - my name is Jonathon and I am your kidnapper for today.  I promise you, so long as you behave yourself you will be just fine, but I need to make sure you are secure as well as comfortable first.”  I notice for the first time the gun handle sticking out of his waist band, and I get the distinct feeling he is not joking.


“All right,” I eventually say, “what do you want from me?”


“Your co-operation,” is the quiet reply.  “For example, f you promise not to try and run away or scream, I’ll remove the tape and allow you to stretch out for a minute.”


Oh, such a simple thing to say - of course I’m going to promise that!  I have no intention of keeping it, but of course I’ll promise it.  “All right,” I say as he walks behind me, and starts to untie my wrists.


Now that the light is on, I can see I’m on an old fashioned iron bedstead, lying on what is actually a very comfortable mattress, and somehow I don’t feel quite as afraid as before.  Once my hands are free, I bring them round in front of me and rub my wrists, getting some feeling back into them.


“What about my legs,” I ask as he comes round in front of me.


“No - not yet,” is his reply, and suddenly I get the sinking feeling that this is genuine - he knows what he is doing.  Instead, he hands me a brown paper bag and says “Eat - you need to keep your strength up.”


Looking inside, I can’t fault his taste - there’s a chicken and rocket focaccia bread sandwich, and a drink of apple juice.  “Thanks, I guess,” I say as I eat the food, and stretch my legs out in front of me, looking at the way the rope holds my legs tightly together.


“So is this a kidnapping for ransom?” I ask once I have finished.


“There is a reason for it,” he replies enigmatically, “but that will become clear soon enough.  Lie down.”


“I beg your pardon?”


“Lie down,” is all eh says a she picks up a length of rope, “rest your head on the pillow and put your hands on your head.  I’m going to untie your legs in a minute, and I need you to be still for that.”


“You could always just untie them now?”


“And have you run away?  No, I don’t think so.”  He’s strong as well as polite, as I feel him move me and pushing me gently down so that my head is resting on a soft white pillow.  He then takes my hands and puts them together in front of me, as if I am praying, before starting to wrap the rope around them.


“What do you think you’re doing,” I say as I watch, wide-eyed at the speed and skill he is showing.  Within five minutes, my hands are tightly tied together, and he is pulling them above my head, securing them to the iron bedstead with the remaining lengths of rope.  I try to find the knot with my fingers but he has kept them well out of reach of me.


“You know, there are easier ways to get a girl,” I say as I flash my eyelids at him, hoping flattery will win him over.


“Sorry, Becky, but this is business,” he says a she starts to cut the tape away from my legs.  At first, I thought he would do my ankles as well, but then he did something I did not expect.  He unbuckled my jeans, and pulled them down to my knees exposing my white lace panties.


“Hey, are you some sort of pervert.” I scrammed at him as he looked back at me.


“Not really - just someone who knows how to make a girl safe,” is his only reply as he finally releases me ankles, before grabbing my left leg.  He’s strong, but he doesn’t try to hurt me as he pulls the zip down and takes off my boot, then pulls the jeans off on that leg.  This leaves me with a black boot sock, which he loops some rope round and pulls tightly, before taking my leg out to the side and tying it to the foot of the bed.


“You are a perv,” I shot back at him as he grabs my other leg, and does the same to that, so that I am left with my legs tied wide apart to the foot of the bed, and my wrists to the top.  I suppose I should be grateful he hasn’t taken my panties off me.


“Now then,” Jonathon says as he picks up a camera, “a few shots for the ransom photo.  Smile!”


Of course I don’t smile - I scowl, I stick my tongue out, but it doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest.  He just keeps snapping away, and then looks at me.


“Are you ticklish, Becky?”


Oh god - he’s not going to, is he?  I watch as he puts his hands under my legs, and starts to slowly tickle the back of my knee.  I start to shake and scream out - of course I’m bloody ticklish behind there!


“Aaaahhhhhhs please don’t” I scream as he looks at me.  “Oh dear, you started to scream,” Jonathon says a she picks up a small handkerchief and folds it into a pad, “I need to stop you doing that.”


“You wouldn’t dare,” I say as I glare back at him.  He just smiles, and then starts to stroke the inside of my legs.  Why the hell didn’t I notice he was wearing velvet gloves before?  His touch is soft, his stroke smooth and firm, and I find myself opening my mouth to moan - at which point he stuffs the hanky in, and then produces a roll of silver duct tape.


Three strips come off, three strips are stuck firmly over my mouth, and all I can say is “Mmmmgggggg,” as he continues to stroke the inside of my legs, making me squirm both in fear and in - well, in delight if truth be told.  I closed my eyes, luxuriating in his stroke as he moved his hands up my legs, and then pulled my top up and over my chest.


I feel his hands gripping my breasts, and I start to let out a soft moan again - this should not be happening, but by god he is turning me on with his actions!  I squirm at his touch, at the way he gently probes with his fingers, at the fact my nipples are hardening and I can feel warmth between my legs - nice warmth.


“Now, Becky,” he says as he looks at me, “I have something to tell you, and I think you’re going to like it.”


“Mmmmm,” I say as I look up at him.


“Happy birthday.”


My eyes snap open as he says this, and I look up at him as he shows me a business card.


Captive Audience - bespoke kidnapping experiences


Surprise your friends and loved ones by fulfilling their deepest desires.




“Your flatmate, Diane, has paid for this as a birthday treat.  She gave me a message - ah here it is.


“Hello, Becky.  You should really learn to change your password, clear your cache, or at least switch off your laptop - I had an amazing time looking through the sites you have visited.  I hope you enjoy your fantasy becoming real.”


GODAMMIT!  I’m going to kill Diane when I...  When I...  Oh god he’s stroking me again at my legs, and I look at him, nodding as he moves his hand up towards my crotch...






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