Never Let You Go

Patrice Bergeron had been the first one, who blinked awake. He found himself in a room. He wasn’t bound or gagged or anything. In fact he was just sitting in a chair.

The room was small. There was one queen size bed and no windows. There was only one door that led out and marked the exit. He slowly got to his feet, cautiously. He tasted the foul liquid on his lips still, but he ignored the bitterness.

The walls encompassing the room were a peachy-yellow with flower wallpaper filling around the top and bottom. There was one fan on the ceiling and a metal bar that raced across one corner, opposite from where Patrice was.

The door suddenly creaked open and the blue eyed, crimson woman walked in. She immediately turned and locked the door behind her and put the key back in it’s place.

Patrice crept up behind her and then throw his arm around her neck, surprising her. “What’s going on here?”

The red haired woman flushed. Her heart leapt, and she found herself short of breath. She had just finished getting ready for the evening role-play. This was the first time that she was gone to role-play with Patrice, her dream date. She’d only imagined this night in her dreams and in her fantasies. After all, she had just kidnapped him.

She smirked to herself, giggling softly. “Bergy, you aren’t known to be violent like this.”

Patrice backed off, releasing her. She was a little surprised that he had been so easy-going and sweet to her.

"Who are you?" he kindly demanded.

She turned to him, dangling a pair of shiny nickel handcuffs from her fingers teasingly. "Patrice, I know that you’re a sweet guy, but I really want to do this," she stated.

Patrice took a step backward, raising his eyebrows. “This is what you want, isn’t it?” He took her by both shoulders, and gave her a light kiss on the lips.

"Eliana Marchand," her reply came, sweetly resonating into his mouth.

Eliana’s leg lifted upward, as she forced Patrice’s head to stay in its place. They stayed together for a few seconds, before the red head finally allowed the Bruin centre to catch his breath and have some freedom.

"No relation to your beloved pest!"

Eliana suddenly shoved Patrice backward, toward the bed and pushed him onto the furniture. He caught himself, by his arms and angled himself upward to watch her. His heart was beating fast. He wasn’t sure what she had planned, but he didn’t exactly like it.

"Now, you know that I love you madly, Patrice Bergeron. You are the ideal mate for anyone, but mostly me. I can’t stop thinking about you, and as my prisoner, you have to do as I say. My, you sure look nice tonight!"

Patrice admired this crazy psychopath, as she stepped back, pursing her lips.

"Thank you," he stammered, but he was unable to take his eyes off the handcuffs, which glittered in the light. He had shaven the night before, getting ready for all the summer events, as a famous sports’ athlete.

And he had to admit that she did look gorgeous. Her shoulder length crimson hair was carefully curled, and her makeup nicely set off her light blue eyes. She had chosen to wear a light purple chiffon blouse with sheer sleeves, and a pair of bootleg dark denim jeans. She wore patent low-heeled pumps. An extra sexy touch was the velvet black ribbon that she had tied about her slender throat.

"Well, if you must lock those silly things on me, go ahead," said Patrice reluctantly, proffering his wrists before him. "I just trust that you will remove them before the service?"

Eliana took one of his wrists, and clasped the bright metal around his dress shirt cuffs between the bottom third and fourth buttons. She did not fasten them overly tightly, but assured herself that there was not too much play between his wrists and the handcuffs. He could not escape and he could not even succeed in moving the handcuff clasp over his button. With one of wrists thus clasped, and its mate dangling in the air, she took him into her arms and hugged the hockey player warmly.

"Be careful," he admonished, "you might get makeup on my blouse."

She held him firmly at arm's length, looked at him and said, "You're so handsome, Bergy."

She leaned over and kissed him firmly and deeply on the mouth. Patrice hesitated a bit, then responded to her. His jaw relaxed. His breathing became short and quick.

After over a minute, they came up for air, and she said, "Ready? Let's go."

Then she attached the other end of the one handcuff to the support beam on the backboard of the bed. She grabbed the other pair and repeated the procedure.

Eliana stepped away for a split second. He tried to look at the metal bands that held his wrists to the bed behind him. With his arms locked up behind his back, he stared at the dominatrix, who stood at the side of the bed. She bend over, screwing her face up in disgust, as she found something wrong. Her chest swung low, over his face. He was able to just glance her lacy slip and bra that were visible through the sheer purple material of her blouse.

Twisting his wrists in the cuffs brought him neither relief nor freedom. It scratched his skin and he finally gave in and relaxed his efforts, allowing his wrists to just remain limp.

She straightened back up. A wisp of her red curls fell in her face, and she instinctively reached up to remove it.

“Oh, there's one more thing."

"What is it now, or dare I ask?" Patrice’s response came, hoarsely. He felt his mouth run dry. The petite woman pulled out a leather strap that ran through a bright red rubber ball. "What on earth is that for?" exclaimed the Bruin centerman.

Eliana ignored him and instead thrust his head upward, propping it upward, so that she could show him. She raised the ball up to his mouth. At first he refused, biting his lip. But when the female gave him a dark, piercing glare, he opened, and Eliana set the ball on his bottom teeth and twisted down and back. There was a bit of pressure required, but the ball slipped under his white upper teeth and seated itself firmly in the cavity of his mouth.

His eyes immediately widened, and Eliana paused for a moment to enjoy Patrice’s reaction to this new, higher level of bondage, before tightening the strap tightly at the soft nape of his neck. As the roller buckle was pulled, the gag bisected his jaws, and the ball was pulled further back into his mouth. His lips stretched around it, forming a perfect seal. Eliana took a small lock from her pocket and ran it through the hole closest to the buckle, making it impossible to unbuckle without her key.

Patrice tried to talk to her, and all that would emit from his mouth was feeble moans. He gagged on the object. He clearly was not pleased with this latest restriction imposed upon him, but Eliana ignored him.

She began to make out with him. She kissed him again, this time on the cheek and then she unlocked one of the handcuffs and pulled his arm forward. She placed his hand on her left breast.

The Bruin’s face flushed bright red, with embarrassment.

"Patrice," she said. "I want to feel you inside me."

Patrice moaned to her. His eyes flashed in fury. She finally sighed and unlocked the ball gag and the other handcuff. She threw the items to the side and forced Patrice to sit up with her. She still kept his hand, firmly planted in spot on her breast.

“Kiss me, Patrice!”

He did as she told and kissed her. He pressed himself against her. Her desire was all the more inflamed.

“Now, undress me!” she demanded, into his mouth.

She kicked off her shoes, as Patrice began to unbutton her blouse down her back, and then on her wrists, and removed it. He then moved to remove her bra. She stopped him, fiercely.

“Leave that. I want you to feel, but not see!”

He respected her wishes and moved to her waist. Her jeans came next. She seized his wrists with her hands, halting him, before he removed her panties.

“Leave those. We’re not going that far,” she scolded.

"My compliments, beautiful lady," he said, as if in a trance, taking her into his arms and holding her close as she wished.

She smashed up against him.

Patrice and Eliana eventually broke apart once more.

The female removed Patrice’s dress shirt and then snatched up one pair of the handcuffs. She clasped both ends onto Patrice’s wrists once more, this time pinning his arms behind his back. He grunted in distress, which turned on Eliana.

With the handcuffs locked about his wrists, the ball-gag was strapped about his throat, but it was not yet inserted into his mouth. Eliana didn’t desire it to be in place.

She glided her hands on Patrice’s bare chest, making him shiver with discomfort. He worked his wrists, trying to slip free, but he couldn’t. Defeated, he looked up at Eliana, who was watching him with high interest. Patrice was short of breath from his exertions against his constraints, and was becoming ever more frustrated by the desire that welled up inside him.

He stared at her, with a classic worried expression. “How much long is this going to take?” he asked her, his eyes staring at her exposed chest, which beckoned to him.

“When I say it is, Bergy.”

This aside, she willed him forward and she took him in her arms, giving him a thorough embrace and another passionate kiss. The ball gag thudded between her breasts in the process, as they thrust into each other, devouring one another.

"Patrice, I love you," she moaned in his ear.

The scent of lavender perfume infiltrated his senses. And he responded by kissing her again, this time she didn’t have to order him. He didn’t exactly enjoy being told what to do and he was entranced by her scent.

As a kind gesture, at first, she unstrapped the gag from around his throat, and made it seem like the event was done. But then she made it ready for insertion. She paused, holding it in front of his mouth. “So, Bergy, will the Bruins win the Stanley Cup this year?”

“I don’t know. There are so many good teams in the NHL.”

"Well," Eliana cooed, stroking Patrice’s hair, gently with her other hand, "It looks like this is not the only afternoon you will spend like this, if the Bruins don’t win."

She opened his mouth for the gag, shoving it into place. Patrice couldn’t help it, as he gagged on the round object. He knew it would be a long evening. And he knew it would not be smart to put up a fight or resist the woman’s desires, no matter how sick it made him feel inside.