Never Let You Go

Patrick Kane woke up feeling very sore. “Damn, I feel like I can’t move?” He twisted around and realized his arms were numb. “I really must’ve slept hard or something?!” He laid still for a moment waiting for his arms to come back to life. “Why in the hell is it so dark in here?”

He knew that he normally went to bed at his usual time; 1am. He had an internal alarm clock that woke him up every day at 7:30am. And sometimes if he was lucky enough, he got to sleep until 9am. So, why the hell was it so dark in his room? I mean not even an ounce of light is shining in.

“Ok, by now my hands and arms shouldn’t be so numb, what the hell is going on here?” He tried to move, to sit up, and he realized he couldn’t. He was tied down or something else.

Now his mind was really reeling. “Why the hell am I tied up? Where the fuck am I?” He barely had time to finish his thought, when a door opened and light flooded the small dingy room.

The light was insufferably blinding. He longed to cover his eyes, but there was no hope of that, with his arms being bound behind his back. He slowly blinked a few times trying to let his eyes adjust to the light.

The walls were peachy-yellow in color and lined with flower wallpaper that raced around the edges of the small room. A single, queen-sized bed jutted outward from the back wall, with a dresser made of wood that looked like it would give anyone a splinter.

It was then, he realized he wasn’t in his own bed at all. He was on some kind of foam mattress. Not the kind they sell in department stores, but some raggedy and filthy thin mattress that had been place, carelessly on the floor.

“What in the hell….” he groaned, but was quickly interrupted by a stern voice.

“I see our sleeping beauty is awake!” The voice was that of a woman’s, but it was not soft or pleasant by any means. Her voice was rather stern and demanding. It reminded him of his mother when she got pissed off at him as a little kid.

He was trying to digest this all; trying to figure out who the hell this woman was and where the hell he was at. A swift kick hit him right square in the gut.

“Umphhh….” It knocked the wind out of him. He slowly opened his eyes to see some small feet; clad in tall leather high-heeled boots.

When the wearer of these boots bent down and looked him in the eyes, it almost took his breath away. This woman, who had just kicked him right in the stomach; she was amazingly beautiful! He was guessing her to be about 5’7”. She had a slender frame, but her breasts were pouring out of her black corset top and for a moment he forgot about the pain in his stomach. The numbness in his arms and hands subsided as well.

She has the most luscious pair of breasts, he’d ever seen in my life. He wanted to reach out and touch her creamy soft skin, but soon realized that wasn’t possible. She had long amber brown hair. It was curly and stretched down her back, almost all the way to her ass. One ringlet kept falling over her right eye. He wouldn’t have minded taking his fingers and moving it behind one of her ears.

This woman was stunningly gorgeous.

From what he could see, she was wearing a very short black leather mini skirt to compliment her tall boots and corset. The way she kneeled down, he could almost make out her lavender panties under her skirt.

She spoke again. She had a much softer tone this time. “You know, you men are all the same.”

He opened his mouth to speak but she put her finger up to his lips to quiet him.

“Here you are tied up, lying half naked on this dirty old mattress in this small room; and I can tell, all you are thinking about is touching me.”

That got his attention. (Patrick couldn’t help it though. He was naturally made a man.)

“Wait just a damn minute here. I don’t know who the hell you are lady, but I’m an important man. Why in the hell am I here anyways? Who the fuck are you? I demand answers NOW.”

With that, she laughed at him. She then turned around. “I think you need more time alone, don’t you Patrick? Yes, I believe he needs to learn some manners.”

“I don’t need to be----!” Patrick began again.

“I like my men shaved, gagged, and bound up with a nice pretty pink bow!” The woman giggled, lightly playing with his hair locks.

With that, this Mistress bitch, whomever she was really, stood up, looked down on me. She spun around on her heel and vanished from his sight at once. (This is starting to feel like some of that BDSM erotic shit that you read online, when no one is around.)

Patrick thought to himself. ‘I need to get the fuck out of here!’

This woman, who apparently called herself Kathryn, went over and flicked on a switch to the room. The whole area was flooded with more blinding light. She could see Patrick was struggling with many different things. He was aggravated by even more bright light in the once black room; his arms were tied so tightly behind his back that surely he must not have any feeling in them.

Patrick just noticed that he was stripped of his shirt, and he had a look of bewilderment on his face. Normally if he took his shirt off it was because he was drunk as hell from a party. He glanced up and saw Kathryn staring at him. Her eyes glittered with amusement and her face flushed a deep red color.

He knew that she was staring his chest. So it was okay for a woman to stare at a man’s chest, but when a man stared at a woman’s chest, he was labeled a perv? Patrick Kane knew that he was not perv. At least not that he knew of.

“You’re a very handsome man, Patrick Kane.”

He had sexy bright blue eyes, the kind that could just cut right through you, to the soul. His hair was obviously somewhat well-maintained, I mean he was a famous hockey star after all. He had just gotten a crew cut done, as his blonde-colored hair grew rather quickly and curly.

The woman named Kathryn helped him to sit up. She withdrew from him once more and dragged a chair across the room to him. It was the only other piece of furniture in the small dungeon. It made a horrible squeaking noise, like nails on a chalkboard, as she pulled it into place.

Patrick grimaced and watched her, as she worked. He eyed her tight, perfect ass, as she sexily bent over, in order to get the chair into its spot. She worked rather quickly and diligently.

Then she grabbed him, under the arms and heaved him into the chair. She didn’t tie him to it. No, not yet. She left him there, with a look of puzzlement etched in his mein.

With a look of surprise and a touch of irritation, he worked his arms and ropes holding his wrists together, behind his back. They still were secure. He obeyed her commands, as she stepped back.

“Stand up,” she ordered, sharply.

He stood up, wanting to run to the bed and attack her. She stopped him with a hand to his chest. With a quick bend of her knees, she pulled his pants down to his ankles and commanded that he remove them. He stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. She then pulled the shirt from his chest, and told him to remain standing there. In a flash, he did as she asked, tossing everything in a pile to the side.

For the second time she pushed him back down into the chair. He gazed up at her, grinning that grin of his, which reminded her so much of the proverbial kid in the candy store window.

“We will just have to wipe that smirk right off your face, won’t we?”

First, she needed to get her head back to where it was supposed to be for this evening’s activities to work. Quickly she knelt and grabbed ropes from her pockets. She began to attach them around the legs of the chair.

When he saw what she intended, he began to protest, “No, please, wait, that’s not fair!” Blah blah blah.

She quickly stood, and with a blazing fire in her eye, she commended, “Be quiet!” She glared at him, her irritation clearly seen in her face.

When she was sure that he understood her orders, that she was in charge, she tied each of his legs to the chair. She then untied his wrists and rapidly attached ropes around each of his arms, tying him down to the chair. He grunted in distress, jerking at the ropes, as she pulled each knot tight and secure on him. Then she stepped back to view her work. He was tied to the chair, with no way to touch either himself or her! It was fantastic!

“Oh, poor helpless little Kanerboo!” she cooed, as she rounded the chair two times, lightly grazing her hand across his bare chest.

Feeling satisfied with this, she walked over and opened the top drawer of the dresser. She stole a quick peek, back at him. He had sat there, watching as she pleasured herself, by struggling to figure out with toy she wanted to use.

He had been surprised at the frustration he felt, as he strained to touch himself. So close, and yet utterly unable to stroke his cock as it grew while he watched her. This beautiful female. He had tried to tear at the ropes holding him in place; that had only increased his frustration.

Sweat covered his body, matting his blonde hair to his forehead and running in rivulets down across his chest and into the waistline of his undergarments, concealing his package. He had sat there, feeling the desire build, until he thought that he might actually go insane with the need to run and make love to her. He didn’t care that she had kidnapped him and was holding him hostage. He was in love.

Instead, he sat there with a beaten and worn look on his face. And yet, deep within his eyes, there still burned a flame of lust, desire he harbored for her. Even as he settled into the chair to wait upon her pleasure, he felt the carnal desires building inside, wanting to be released. Oh how he ached to be with her.

She watched him, with a touch of laughter, enjoying the sight of his desire mixed with agony. He was normally so strong and in control of himself. She had fallen in love with him, because of his unrelenting take charge attitude. She could see that he wanted to break free of his bonds, take control of her and pleasure her into sweet bliss.

His lust and frustration was evident by the growling which came from him; a low rumbling, as a snarling dog before it attacks. She knew that he was as harmless as a newborn puppy, however. She had control over him.

“Let me….go…” he croaked out, eyeing her.

Oh, he could send her into orbit with just the touch of his hand, of that she had no doubt. She had felt the edge of his roughness, had seen the look in his eye when he wanted to ignore her cries for release. And she knew that he would sooner cut off his own arm than to hurt her in any way. How she screamed in agony, when she felt her love for this man welling up inside of her.

“No, Patty, I can’t do that,” she replied.

She finally choose her “toy” and purposefully showed him: duct tape. With a deep breath to clear her head, she stood up and walked back over to him. She mustered an evil smirk, as she returned to him.

She rounded him, standing behind him. He struggled to follow her, to see her, but she vanished.

“Keep your head straight and facing forward!” she ordered, as he heard the tearing sound of the tape being torn off the roll.

He obeyed her, know it would be no use to fight. He tilted his head up, as she stuck her thin, pasty arms out, ahead of him. In one hand, the tape dangled loosely and precariously. He eyed it with horror. She nestled her head on his shoulder and whispered into his ear, “Good boy, Kanerboo!”

With that, her arms moved back toward his face and she stuck the tape over his mouth. He closed his eyes, as she smoothed the adhesive over his lips. The touch of her fingers stirred inside of him. And she caught on to his enjoyment and smacked him roughly on the cheek.

“No!” she snapped.

Patrick muffled a cry to her, reopening his eyes. He saw that she was finished and back before him.

Slowly she bent at the waist, feeling her breasts sway with the movement. They knocked together, excitedly inside the collar of her shirt. He moaned. She smacked him again. Instantly his eyes widened, taking on a crazed and wild look. She cocked her head in curiousity, suddenly and stood back up on her feet.

With a sweeter, sly smile, she continued to tease him, running her hands over her breasts and across her stomach. She pinched and pulled at her nipples, feeling a moan escape her lips as she did so.

A fresh spring of sweat began to pour off of him. The bulge in his boxers grew even larger, threatening to explode completely. She finally crouched down, kneeling on the floor at his feet. Slowly she ran her hands over his thighs, watching as he struggled vainly at the ropes. She moved upward, travelling over his knees, and lightly stroked her nails across his bulge, hearing him almost cry out, behind the tape.

He tried to thrust up at her, to get her off; she had expected this, and quickly pulled away from him. She wasn’t going to manhandle him, if he was going to misbehave. An angry grunting came from behind the tape gag, and she again looked at his face. It was twisted up in worried pain, like he had just lost the Olympic race for Team USA.

Again she slowly bent at the waist, until she was mere inches away from him. She lifted her head, and with a wicked and teasing smile, she looked him straight in the eye, as she ran her hands down his chest, back onto his crotch. She squeezed him, causing him to moan into the tape. He jerked around and thrashed about, madly and wildly in the chair.

Finally she stood, and slowly turned in a half circle, showing her beautiful round ass, covered by the sexy short skirt, to his now bulging eyes. Now she was just being cruel to the helpless hockey player. Red marks appeared on his wrists. His head was craned forward, hungry for her.

She couldn’t hold off any longer and gave in. She untied him from the chair, snatching his wrists in her hands, before he could do anything or even remove the tape. She shoved him onto the bed, seized a fresh coil of rope from the drawer, which was still open. She bound his wrists in front of him and then allowed him to wriggle up the bed, attempting to outrun her.

He made to reach up and remove the tape, but she gave him a stern face. “Don’t you dare! You leave that tape on, sexy Kanerboo!”

She leapt onto the bed, like a wildcat. Patrick gazed at her in terror, as she tackled him, sending him backward. She pinned him underneath her. His head found itself, implanted right between her breasts, which she made sway back and forth, smacking against his head. He whimpered and moaned some more.

Then she crawled backward and dropped her head down to his. She peeled off the tape with her teeth and spit it to the side. He gazed up at her in awe, as she returned and stuck her lips on his.

He allowed her fun to continue. Her tongue explored his mouth, as he gave into her. Her hands moved magically through his hair, as he groaned into her mouth, willing her inside of him. His hands were trapped in an upward angle, at his elbows, as he pressed against her chest.

They thrust together, making out. Then, after a few moments, they lay side-by-side on the bed, both spent from their exercise, both waiting for their energy to return for another go round.

She laid with her head on her hand, his arms were draped casually over her head, still bound at the wrists, which dangled in front of her chest. Her heart pounded inside of her and she could feel his heart beating fast as well. He could hear his breathing, slowly returning to normal.

After a time, when their breathing had returned to a state of normal, he whispered into her ear, feeling the tickle of her hair on his face. “Let’s go again, Kitty!”

She smiled to herself, as she allowed the Chicago Blackhawk forward to touch her, his hands gentle and warm on her face. He kissed her softly, tenderly, his mouth brushing over hers with the delicateness of a butterfly wing. She sighed and twined her arms about his neck, rolling over to face him. She slid her hands through his blonde hair, ruffling it lightly.

“Okay.”