Never Let You Go

Kathryn Wilson had Patrick Kane under her control and spell. Or so she thought. The blue eyed man was deeply in love with her and she knew it. As he lay there with her, he was free from the ropes and all he thought about was staying curled up with her. He didn’t put up a fight or try to escape. He just stayed with her.

However something was off. She felt strangely about how open and willing the Chicago goal scorer was. Why was he acting so easy? Was he scheming something up? She went on her guard and tensed up beside him.

He felt her movement and turned to her. He flashed her a warm smile, his eyes glittering in the light. “What’s wrong, Kitty?” He asked her.

“Nothing, Kaner!” She replied, sighing heavily, feeling her heart beating quicker in her chest. She smiled back at him, though, disguising her suspicions. He was definitely holding back something. He was going to do something, she knew it.

Suddenly she rose upward. He followed her. She raised her hand up and he grabbed her at the wrist, halting it. He raised his hand and she grabbed him at the wrist. Both of their smiles vanished instantly.

“You deceiving little bastard!” She hissed.

He held his own against her, as they fought for control, shifting around on the bed. It was like an intense thumb wrestling war. She had the upper hand though, as she lunged forward and managed to push him off balance. He crashed to the bed, where she quickly yanked her one arm free and snatched him about the wrist in both hands. She pinned him to the bedspread, sinking downward, digging her nails into his skin and reaching his bones. He struggled, refusing to give into her.

“Bitch! I wasn’t going to attack you! I was defending myself, since you attacked me!”

“Liar! Dirty blonde liar!” She spat at him, scowling darkly.

Play time was over. She was regaining her control over him. He continued to wreathe about under her, as she tossed her head back, cackling at the helplessness. “Kaner, Kaner, Kaner…”

Patrick trashed about, kicking and screaming, but he couldn’t go anywhere. “Alright, alright, I give in! I give in! I won’t fight you, Kitty!” He was pleading with her and she could tell he was serious and that he meant it.

She gradually and reluctantly released his wrists and climbed off of him. He pushed himself into a sitting position, his arms purposefully drawn backward, holding him in a slanted angle. He looked at her, his blue eyes shimmering with his inner fears.

“Stand up Kaner!” She ordered, getting off of the bed and coming around to his side.

He watched her intently, but gave a curt nod, biting his lip. He slid off the bed to his feet, clutching the bed post at the footboard. He opened his mouth to say something, but she interrupted with another command, “Release the bed post and turn around!”

He dropped his hand, slowly to his side and did as told. He faced the bed and muttered a whimper. She brought her hand backward and with a quick swing forward, she smacked him once. Twice. Thice. Four more times. And a final time. Each time she hit him, he screamed agonizingly. When she stopped, she grabbed him at the shoulders, forcing him to remain still. Pain slithered through him at her assault on his ass and he felt humiliated and in agony.

“I want you to stay here, okay. If you so much as have a single thought about running to the door, I’ll slap your ass some more, you here?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He replied, with a giant gulp.

She let go of him and walked away. She went to the closet and pulled out a sexy new outfit for Patrick to put on and wear. A Chicago Blackhawks jersey and a pair of dressy black suit pants. She walked over to him and passed the clothes to him, around his side. He gasped, as he took them.

“Change into the new outfit, Kanerboo, while I get my chosen instrument out and ready.”

She walked away from him, as he slipped the jersey on, which happened to be his own, a real shocker there, and the pants, which he pulled over his boxers. He buttoned the button in place and then zipped up the zipper. It felt good to put on his own jersey once again.

When he glanced back up, his eyes locked on the young woman, who was unraveling a new roll of his least favorite bondage item: black duct tape. She stalked toward him, locking her eyes on her prey, who remained frozen in place. As she got closer, she gave him another command, “Go and sit in the chair!”

His lips quivered, as he reluctantly fled to the furniture and sat down.

“Put both of your arms on the arms of the chair! Make it so that your wrists rest on the edges and your hands dangle over the side! Then lean back and sit up straight!” She commanded, stepped up to him, as he followed her orders and draped his arms on the arms of the chair and leaned back, sitting up straight.

At once, she wrapped the tape four times around each wrist, cuffing him to the chair. She made sure that she got the sleeves of his jersey under the tape as well. He attempted to pull free, but the tape secured him in place. She could see the effort written in his expression. Then she took the roll and wrapped it around him, running around his upper arms, over his chest, where the indian head sat, a total of four times and then around his elbows twice. She stuck him in that straight up position, sticking him to the back of the chair. He couldn’t move anything, other than his head.

To the legs of the chair, she bound each of his legs, below the knee and then again at the ankles. His legs were parted open, wide to her, his groin stared her in the face and beckoned her with mocks. But she shook her head and continued on with her vision.

“Now, Kanerboo, I’m going to need you to keep those pretty feminine lips of yours closed, okay?”

“They aren’t feminine!” He snapped, frowning.

“Close your mouth Kaner!” She snarled, ripping the ominous piece of tape off the roll.

He closed his mouth and raised his head up, with eyes shining and his eyebrows knit in the upward slant of his worried expression. She saw the look and softened her own hard look.

“Oh, Kaner, my sweet, there’s no need to worry…” She cooed, as she leaned forward, placing one of her hands on the thigh of his leg, momentarily.

In her other hand, dangling from her first two fingers, index and middle, was the adhesive. He eyed it, producing a guttural whimper. He kept his lips pressed together as she had ordered, even though she knew that he wanted to tell her something. She rolled her eyes and stuck the tape over his mouth, gagging him once more. She smoothed it over his lips and corners, making sure that it was stuck on for good, until she removed it. He muffled something inaudible to her, as she backed off of him and stood up straight.

She folded her arms, under her breasts, perking them upward. Her face screwed up in sick pleasure as she watched him struggle at the tape bondage. She would have to go and borrow Arielle’s camera, as this was too precious and perfect not to capture in a recording. But she actually did have her own camera, which she used for photography. Maybe she would tease him with it. He snapped his head up, gazing at her, his eyes bleeding into her soul, desperately wanting her to free him.

And for a moment, she considered it. But she knew that would give him control and end the pleasure that she was getting from watching him struggle.

Little did he know that this was the climax of the evening and the end of his suffering. Of all the hockey players’ suffering. It was time to say good bye, indeed. Even though she didn’t want to give him up. She didn’t want her Patty Kane to go.

“I’m going to go see the others, now Patty, but when I come back, either you’ll be free from the tape or I’ll finally release you. But for one last time, Kanerboo, my sweet darling, can you give me one final struggle?” She spoke, cracking her sly grin at him.

He shook his head left to right. He didn’t want to struggle for her. He just wanted to get out of the damn tape restraints! He muffled a “NO!” to her.

“Fine. I’m flexible. I was going to make you anyway, but now, I’m going to record it! I wanted to give you the option to work with me, but now I’m going to be able to view your pretty little princess peril for nights to come! And if you do happen to break free, well I can rig the camera to stop, turn off and not let you get on, without a password.”

She turned on her heels and walked to the dresser. In the bottom drawer, she pulled out an expensive photography camera. She set the actual camera down and unfolded the tri-fold legs of the stand. She got that part set up and then set the camera in place, on top. She kicked the drawer closed, as she got to her feet and made sure the camera was securely in place. Grabbing it around the “neck”, she made her way back to the helpless Blackhawk captive, who was watching her with enormous watery eyes.

As she set it down, at a precise distance and pointed the lens at him, he muffled begs and pleads at her. He wanted her to put it back. He was willing to give her the struggle she wanted. She pressed the record button, which flashed on and began to record him. “It’s too late for that Kanerboo, you don’t fuck with me like that! Now struggle or I’ll make you!”

Instantly, Patrick grunted behind the tape and began to wriggle in place. He felt highly embarrassed by this chick and he hoped that the torture would end soon. She watched him for a few minutes, before she left him alone, before the camera.

Patrick paused for a little bit, to gulp in air through his nose. He tossed his head backward and gave a loud distress call. He was sure that she’d enjoy that. And then, after a few seconds of rest, he continued his fight against the black tape. Instead of loosening, the tape seemed to tighten and he moaned in agony. But he kept at his battle, refusing to give in. He wanted that camera off! And he wanted it off now!!