Puppet on a Rope
by Jennifer Harrison
Part 2

Part 2 - Adventure

‘Dear God, please let this all be a dream’

I opened my eyes, but everything was just as it had been. I was still in that frighteningly desolate place, and I was still hanging by my wrists from the ceiling. And he was still there, standing in front of me, smiling.

The man who I had thought of as my friend. No, I was lying to myself, I had thought of him as my cyber-master, and I had met him on the Internet - why was I surprised that, instead of a twenty-year-old hunk, he had turned out to be a forty-something-year-old psycho? Isn't that what they always warned you about? And I had walked right into it. I had been played. And now I had been abducted.

"You know, now is not a good time to lose your respect for me," he said quietly, his hands running down either side of my body.

"Why not?" I spat angrily, trying to free myself and get away from his roving hands at the same time, with no success on either. "You tie me up, stuff me in a suitcase, and bring me to this shit hole against my will, then leave me hanging here! Why should I show you any respect?"

"I can think of several reasons. One is your current situation, which is precarious, to say the least. You don't want to make me angry, do you?"

As he said this, he pulled my T-shirt up my body, over my head, and up my arms, until he left it over my hands and the hook holding them above me. He took out the knife he had threatened me with earlier and began toying with it close in front of me, raising my terror to new levels.

"Also, I mentioned that I have complete access to your computer. That means I have your full address book - friends, family, your college tutor, several of your lecturers, those people you applied to for work experience, even college administration. I'm sure they'd all love to receive a hyperlink, apparently from you, to a YouTube video of you taking off your panties, putting them in your mouth, then handcuffing yourself and masturbating - it's bound to be incredibly popular."

I looked up at him in horror. "Oh God, please don't do that!" I begged.

His response was to pull my bra straps away from my skin and, first one and then the other, slice through them with the knife. He hooked his finger around the strap between the cups and slid the knife under it. As he applied the razor-sharp edge, the bra sprang apart and fell to the floor, leaving my breasts bare and vulnerable.

"The other reason is that I can do rather more now than just give you the silent treatment." He reached out and took each of my nipples between thumb and forefinger and squeezed, digging his thumbnail into the soft, sensitive flesh of my areolae.

"Owww! Please, Sir! I'm sorry!" I cried, trying in vain to pull away from the painful pinch. "Please, Sir! Don't hurt me! Aiyee!” I was screaming now, fresh tears running down my face as he continued to press. At last he stopped, and I was left sobbing and gasping for breath.

"I can't believe how lucky I am," he went on as if nothing untoward had happened which, for him, it hadn’t. "When I first started chatting with you, I assumed that you were, at best, just another lonely girl, low on self-esteem, probably extremely plain, maybe overweight or into self-harm. Not that it would have mattered - my fantasy, in case you're interested, is to have absolute control over a woman. It doesn't really matter what they look like."

Whilst he spoke, he unzipped my skirt and pulled it down over my hips, sliding it down my legs to my feet, where he took it off, along with my shoes. I was now naked and completely available to him. His hands roamed over my hips, my buttocks, and then fondled my breasts, firmly, almost roughly. Despite my desperate fear, I felt my body responding.

"And then," he went on, "when I saw you, your picture and then you in the flesh, undressing for me, even sleeping in front of me, I knew I had to have you, whatever the risks."

"Wait, what? What you mean, Sir, sleeping in front of you?" I asked, my horror reaching new depths.

"You are so naive, Kelly," he replied, with that wicked smile, "I've been able to watch you through your webcam ever since you downloaded my virus. You look so sweet when you sleep, those little snuffly noises you make, how you stick your bum in the air sometimes, like a baby…" Somehow, I felt even more violated by this revelation than by the kidnapping.

"You are, indeed, a very beautiful young woman, Kelly," he mused as he played with my erect nipples, sending shivers through my body, "and I never tire of looking at you as you wander around your room, going about your business. But even more than your sexy body, I love your sexy mind. It seems so filthy, so full of ideas, and so ready to be moulded, to be shaped, to be controlled. You are the perfect girl for me, Kelly, the perfect puppet.

"And now, you and I can explore the far reaches of BDSM together," he continued, his fingers tracing a line down across my stomach, through my trim little triangle of pubic hair, and between my thighs, feeling the wetness there.

"We have already started our journey into Bondage and Domination, and you have been an astonishingly willing pupil. I really thought I would have to work hard to get you to do some of the things I've asked of you already, but you have submitted to me on every occasion with hardly a protest. I think it tells us both how much you want this. Even now, when you are obviously terrified that I am going to do something terrible to you, you're completely aroused, aren't you?"

I hung my head in shame, my cheeks burning, before I finally, reluctantly, nodded my head.

"Let me reassure you, Kelly," he said in a kindly tone, putting his hand to my cheek and raising my head until I looked into his eyes. "I am not going to kill you. I'm not even going to keep you prisoner. Really, the only reason I tied you up and brought you here, rather than just turn up in your room, was because I thought you would enjoy the drama of it all. And it certainly seems to have worked."

I let out a moan, my head going back and my eyes closing, as his fingers slipped inside me and worked their way up to find my G spot.

"Why would I kill you," he went on, driving me wild with his exquisite, intimate exploration, "you are my puppet, my perfect plaything. I could blackmail you, as I described earlier, but I don't think I'm going to need to. I think you will do everything I ask of you, no matter how humiliating, how disgusting, how degrading it may be, because you love all that. No, I won't kill you or disfigure you, you are too precious for that."

I let out another moan, this time of disappointment as he withdrew his magic fingers and walked away into the shadows. When he came back, to my alarm I saw that he was carrying a leather-thonged flogger, casually swinging it to and fro.

"However, that doesn't mean I won't hurt you," he said in a stern voice, ramping my fear right back up to where it had been when I thought he might do away with me.

"The other part of BDSM is the SM. I definitely have the sadistic side covered, but it will be interesting to find out if you are, probably unknown to yourself, a masochist."

"Please, Sir, don't hurt me!" I whined, my eyes fixed on the evil-looking weapon in his hand. "I don't like pain! I'm not a masochist!"

"Of course you don't like pain," he responded with what looked almost like a friendly smile, "nobody likes pain for its own sake. What you have to do is to learn to appreciate what it signifies. When I cause you pain, it pleases me, arouses me, because I am a sadist. You should enjoy providing me with that pleasure and endure the pain because you wish to serve me as completely as you can."

I glanced up at him, wondering if he was completely mad - why would I want to gratify a man who thinks that physically abusing me is an acceptable way of getting his jollies?

"Alternatively," he went on, as if he recognised my scepticism, "you could look on it as the ultimate damsel-in-distress peril, being bound and tortured. It's up to you, as long as you get something out of it. I’ll enjoy myself either way."

He walked around behind me, and when I tried to twist myself to face him again, he grabbed my arm and kept my back turned.

"Oh God, please, Sir!" I sobbed, tears coming to my eyes, "I'm begging you, please don't hurt me! I'll do whatever you want, Sir, just-AAAIYEEEEE!" My pleading was cut short as I screamed at the top of my voice. I felt the leather slap down across my back from left shoulder to right rib cage, leaving a streak of pure pain burning deep into my skin.

"I already know you will do whatever I want," he said, "and what I want you to do right now is suffer for me." The flogger struck my back again, the other way this time, creating an X of white hot agony across my shoulder blades. Tears burst from my eyes and soaked my cheeks, desperate, frantic screams bellowing from my wide open lips as I danced on the chain holding me, trying somehow to avoid the blows, but unable to.

After three or four lashes across my back, his attack moved downwards, and the leather fronds bit cruelly into the soft white flesh of my buttocks. I endured maybe half a dozen vicious strokes there before he paused. My body was wracked with sobs as I hung my head on my chest, trying to cope with the throbbing pain coursing through me.

I felt the rope around my ankles and knees being removed, but then rope was being tied around my left thigh, just above the knee, and my leg was lifted up and to the side. This was repeated on my other leg, and now I was hanging by my wrists, my thighs held horizontal to the ground and wide apart.

I looked up wearily, to see him standing in front of me, unfastening his trousers, pulling them and his boxer shorts down to reveal his rampant erection. Unable to speak, even to beg him not to rape me, I could only watch as he rolled a condom down over his very stiff member, then stepped forward between my bound thighs, his hair-covered chest pressing against my breasts.

I cried out in pain as his hands grabbed my tortured buttocks and pulled me towards him, then cried out again as he entered me, lifting me with the power of his thrust. I bounced up and down like a rag doll - or possibly like the puppet he had named me - on the rattling chain as he repeatedly thrust himself deep inside me. I gasped at the pain in my buttocks, across my back, and in my shoulders, arms, and wrists, but I moaned in ecstasy at the rough, almost mechanical, fucking he was giving me.

I reached my first ever damsel-in-distress orgasm, my first in bondage, shortly before he reached his own climax. I screamed loudly, as if in pain and, actually, I was still in quite a lot of pain, but I was responding solely to the incredible pleasure running through me. My body juddered as the spasms of ecstasy swept through me, my head thrown back, mouth wide open gasping for air, eyes wide open staring at the ceiling in astonishment at my own violent response. As the moment passed and I felt him leave me, I hung limply in my bondage, on the verge of passing out in exhaustion.

I felt him release me from the ropes and lower me carefully down, until I was lying in the recovery position on the cool concrete of the floor. I felt him massaging my shoulders, carefully avoiding the damaged flesh of my back, and then rubbing some kind of lotion into my wounds. As I lay there, eyes closed and body completely relaxed, I found his attentions soothing, the cream easing the pain of the lashing quite considerably.

Eventually, I came out of my half-doze and, avoiding sitting on my still-aching bottom, got onto my knees, looking around me. He had returned the chain from which I had been hanging to its place in the shadows, and packed everything else into the suitcase, which he had zipped closed - thank God, I thought, I'm not going back inside that! But, I could not see any of my clothes, and had to assume they were also in the suitcase.

When he noticed that I had somewhat recovered, he came over to me and I saw that he was holding the handcuffs. He pulled my arms, gently but firmly, behind my back and locked the cuffs around my wrists.

"W-what's going to happen to me now, Sir?" I stammered fearfully.

"Don't worry, puppet," he said, brushing my hair back from my face, "it's time to take you home now." Before I had a chance to say anything else, I found myself facing a bright red ball gag, which he pressed insistently against my lips and teeth until I opened my mouth to receive it. The ball was big enough to stretch my jaw wide before it popped behind my teeth. He buckled the strap underneath my hair, pulling it tight enough to drag the ball even deeper, the stiff leather cutting into the corners of my mouth. I looked up at him and saw the smile on his face, but didn't feel even remotely reassured by it.

He helped me to my feet and then led me, one hand on my forearm as he pulled the suitcase along behind him. He opened the door when we reached it, and I was hit by a blast of cold air. Outside, it was a dark night, with not a star in sight, and no artificial lights around either. He pulled me outside, and I could feel cold, wet tarmac beneath my bare feet as we made our way through the darkness towards the outline of a car. He opened the trunk, and for a moment I thought he was going to make me get in there, but he just put the suitcase in and shut it. He opened the passenger door for me and helped me in, fastening the seat belt across my naked body, the strap looking very strange as it passed between my bare breasts. He got in the driver's side and a few moments later, pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

I wondered what on earth was going on. Surely he wasn't going to take me back onto campus like this, naked, cuffed and gagged, was he?! Given what I had seen so far that night, I definitely couldn't rule it out.

I noticed the clock, which said 3.47 AM, and I realised why I was so tired. Just then, bright headlights appeared in front of us, heading towards us at considerable speed. I started to panic, worried that the other driver might be able to look into the car as he passed, seeing a naked woman in the passenger seat! I desperately tried to hide, scooting down in the chair as far as the seatbelt would allow me and then pushing myself to the side, hoping the dashboard would conceal me. The car flashed past and I couldn't see anything of the interior of it, so I assumed they couldn't see me either. I hope I was right!

We had travelled a mile or so when he slowed down and pulled in to the side of the road. He got out and came round to my side, opening the door, releasing the seatbelt and helping me out. I looked around, but could see nothing, other than the road and the trees on either side of it. I looked up at him - he must be well over six feet tall, I realised - with a quizzical and fearful look.

"I thought you might enjoy a little damsel in distress scenario," he said to me. "A few miles down that way" - he pointed in the direction we had been travelling - "is your college campus and, shortly before you reach that, there is a roadside diner where I will leave your clothes and the key to the handcuffs. Your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to make it back to your room on campus without being discovered in your current state. I'll warn you that the restaurant opens at 6 AM, and the staff will be arriving around 5.30, so you'd better get a move on. Sound like fun, DiD girl? Good luck!"

I shook my head frantically and tried to make myself understood around the gag, but all that came out were unintelligible sounds. As he strode around to his side of the car, I followed him, trying to put my body between him and the door, but he pushed me away and got in. I stared in through the window, trying to make him understand, but he just looked at me with that big grin, then fired up the engine and drove off, leaving me staggering backwards to avoid getting my toes run over. I watched in dismay and impotent rage as his tail lights receded and then disappeared around a corner.

I stood there for a minute, unable to come to terms with my latest situation, when I realised that the noise I could hear was no longer his car moving away but another car approaching. In blind panic, I ran to the side of the road and into the trees, just as the headlights appeared around the corner. I pressed myself against the trunk of the nearest tree and held my breath as the lights got brighter, the engine noise grew to a crescendo, and then the car swept by, no more than twenty feet away from me. I listened as the car drove on, my chest heaving as I tried to get enough air in through my nostrils and around the ball gag. My heart was pounding from the relief and, yes, the excitement, of having escaped discovery.

I knew I had to get moving - it was around 4 AM and I had no idea how far it was to the restaurant. Taking my courage in both hands, albeit locked behind my back, I nervously came out from my hiding place and checked both ways, listening intently for any noise. All I could hear was the wind in the branches above me and, somewhere in the distance, the hoot of an owl. Without further delay, I began running down the tarmac in the direction of salvation and safety.

I don't have large breasts - C cup at best - but running with no support or restraint soon had me in severe discomfort. I had to stop, proceeding from then on only at a brisk walking pace, which made me frantically worried that I wouldn't make it in time. To add to my woes, I had only been going a short while when it began to rain, slowly at first, but then developing into a steady downpour. My hair was soon drenched, plastered to my head, and I noticed drops of rain dripping off my nose and my nipples. I was chilled to the bone, but I couldn't worry about that, I just had to keep marching on.

I reached the diner as the sky above was lightening and the birds had already started their pre-dawn chorus. I looked around for my clothes but saw nothing. I searched all around the small building but still couldn't find what I was looking for. As I became more and more distraught, I heard a car approach and pull into the parking lot in front of the restaurant.

Feeling like I was going to be physically sick, I desperately looked around for a hiding place and scuttled over to a line of refuse bins, crouching down behind them. As I did so, I caught sight of the white cotton of my T-shirt, stuffed under one of the bins, and felt a wave of relief wash over me.

I heard people get out of the car, talking quietly as they went into the building. I waited until I heard the door shut before I scrambled around in the dirt and the puddles to recover my clothes. It turned out that ‘my clothes’ consisted of my T-shirt and nothing else. As I pulled the shirt out from under the dumpster, the handcuff key fell on the ground, and I immediately turned my attention to that, managing to pick it up in my numb fingers and, after several tries, getting it into the lock and releasing my wrists. I rolled my shoulders, feeling how stiff they had become, then picked up the dirty, wet T-shirt and pulled it on over my head.

The result was not very effective - the bottom of the T-shirt barely reached the bottom of my bottom, even with some serious tugging, and the wet material clung to me, showing my erect nipples very clearly. But I didn't have much choice, or much time to consider it. I removed the gag, exercising my aching jaw, then picked up the cuffs and made my way out from behind the dumpster.

Another car had arrived whilst I had been getting free and getting ‘dressed’, and I found that I had to go down on my hands and knees to crawl past the front window so that nobody saw me. Once I had got far enough away, I rose to my feet and sprinted down the road, holding my breasts down with one arm clamped across my chest.

When I got to the campus, it was just starting to come to life, with staff arriving but, luckily, no students were likely to show their faces at such an unsociable hour on a Saturday morning. I had to hide behind whatever I could when I thought I heard a person or a car nearby, but I made it to my block without serious incident.

Feeling like some kind of secret agent, I crept up the stairs to my floor and, after a quick look to check for early risers, I ran down the corridor to my door. It was unlocked, thank God, and I got in, shutting and locking the door behind me, and leaned on it, breathing heavily. I’d made it! A wave of relief passed over me, and then a thought struck me like a thunderbolt - what an incredible adventure I had just survived! Real damsel in distress, with real perils and predicaments, and I had come through it all! I suddenly felt incredibly horny, and my hand went between my thighs.

But I was too tired for that. I staggered across the room, tossed the cuffs and the ball gag onto the table and stripped off the still-damp T-shirt, before falling onto the bed. I was soon drifting off to sleep when I heard a noise from my computer. Realising that it was the Skype call sound, I knew it could be only one person - the puppet master. As I dragged myself to my feet, I realised he was probably watching me right now, naked, walking towards the desk. But so what, I thought, he's seen me naked many times already. He's just fucked me, for God’s sake! I grabbed the mouse and clicked on the ‘receive call’ button.

"I'm glad to see you made it back, Kelly," I heard him say, and looked at the screen to see him smiling back at me - not that fake picture, but his real face, via the video link. "Did you enjoy your night, little puppet?" I held my head in my hands, too tired to respond.

"That was a question, slut, requiring an answer," he said sternly.

"Yes, Sir," I lied, but then thought - maybe it wasn't a lie. Once I had overcome my terror at being abducted, I had, largely, enjoyed it, hadn’t I? Okay, not the flogging, although even through that, I had been imagining myself as some kind of French resistance fighter being interrogated by the Gestapo.

"Yes, Sir," I repeated in a firmer tone, "I did enjoy it. Thank you, Sir."

"I knew you would," he smiled, "I bet you want to masturbate now, don't you?"

"I'm very tired, Sir…"

"Give me a show, little puppet," he said firmly, "after all, I've done a lot for you in the last few hours."

I thought about protesting, but I was already in the mood, and him telling me to do it had raised my arousal to just above my need for sleep. I grabbed the ballgag and strapped into my mouth, then put on the handcuffs. I went to my bedside drawer and took out my rampant rabbit vibrator, bringing it back in front of the computer. In a frenzy now, I spread my legs and thrust my crotch towards the camera, my fingers urgently spreading my pussy lips and rubbing my clitoris. I turned on the vibrator and gradually worked it in to my wet vagina, thrusting it in and out with a desperate need to satisfy my overwhelming urges. I knew he was almost certainly recording this, and the knowledge just inflamed me more.

I came noisily, despite the gag, which muffled my screams but did not silence them altogether. Saliva exploded around the ball in my mouth, leaving trails of drool running down my chin and dripping onto my chest. At last, when the urge to keep fucking myself with the rabbit had waned, I leaned forward, throwing the sex toy onto the table and grabbing the edge to stop myself falling. I unlocked the cuffs and removed the gag.

"Very good, puppet, very entertaining," he said contentedly. "Now, I have some rules for you to follow. You will leave your computer on at all times. If you switch it off, I will assume that it is so that you can clean it of the virus I have installed, and will take that badly. It will prompt me to send information you would rather not be shared to everyone in your address book. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir," I replied, knowing that I had no choice in the matter.

"From now on," he continued, "you will not wear underwear at any time…"

"But, Sir!" I protested, "everyone will be able to tell that I'm not wearing a bra! What am I going to say to them?"

"You're an intelligent girl, Kelly, you’ll think of something. And finally - for now, at least - you will shave off your pubic hair. I don't want to see it again, do you understand?"

"Oh, Sir, do I have to?"

"Don't whine at me, cunt!" he barked, making me flinch in fear. "You will do as I tell you, and not question me, or there will be punishment. Now, do you understand what you have to do?"

"Yes, Sir," I responded miserably.

"Get some sleep now, I may speak to you later." The connection dropped and he was gone. Beyond weary now, I fell onto the bed. I didn't even bother getting under the covers, but my mind was so full of whirling thoughts that I couldn’t sleep.

I thought back to when I had first encountered the puppet master, to that picture which had so taken me in. I started to wonder why it seemed to be fine when I thought he was a twentysomething hunk, but it was so terrible when I found out that he was actually a fortysomething hunk - I had to admit that, for an older man, he was very good-looking. He was tall, dark - although greying - and handsome. Okay, so I didn't like his hairy chest, but the rest of his physical attributes, including the most important one, were impressive and in perfect working order.

Maybe it was an advantage that he was older, I thought, maybe somebody my age wouldn't have the experience and the control, both of me and himself, to understand me so well that he knew he could abuse me quite badly and get away with it. More than get away with it, I thought, he had played on my sexual fantasies and needs like a virtuoso on a violin. I had never experienced such sweet music…

I started to replay the events of the evening in my mind’s eye, this time with the benefit of hindsight. Suddenly, being tied up and forced into a suitcase was not terrifying, it was hot! The lash of the flogger across my back was no longer excruciatingly painful, it was the harsh kiss of a dozen leather tongues, wielded by the man who had tied my emotions in knots, wrapped my sensible self in chains, silenced my voice of reason with a huge ballgag…

Pretty soon, I was bringing myself to yet another climax as I writhed on the sweat-soaked sheets. I had to stuff my fist into my mouth as I came as hard as when he had fucked me. Slumped, utterly spent, on the damp sheets, I was asleep in moments.

End of part 2

Copyright© 2014 by Jennifer Harrison. All rights reserved.