The room is oddly homely, with a comfortable bed, a soft light emanating from a pretty lamp in the corner. There is a large armchair with extra cushions, a soft red blanket that matches the colour of the rug. There is even a kettle with tea, coffee and mini fridge with milk and chocolate in it. The whole place looks soft, warm, cozy and inviting, apart from the fact that the door is locked and I don’t have a key. He brings me food on a tray, he is polite and calm. The first time I flew across the room at him, knocking the tray of food from his hands, grabbing with my nails at his face and eyes but he was too strong for me and he held me tightly by my wrists while I fought and struggled and twisted and kicked until eventually I hung, limp and exhausted from his grasp and then he scooped me up in his arms and carried me like a baby to the chair. That was when I discovered that the chair had metal eyelets screwed into the base. With swift efficiency he secured metal cuffs to my wrists and attached them by length of chains that he seemed to materialise from nowhere to the attachment points on the chair. Once he was satisfied that I couldn’t get free he then cleaned up all the food I had caused him to throw across the room. Slowly, methodically, even wiping the walls and washing the floor and a patch on the rug. He didn’t seem remotely angry or bothered by having to do this. I sat in the chair and silently watched him and wondered if he was going to treat me with such thorough care and attention and if so, what exactly that might entail. My heart thumped in my chest, a strange mixture of fear, excitement and curiosity about this man flowed through my body and silently, secretly I pressed my thighs tightly together in an attempt to try and stop the throbbing heat that shameful flared in my cunt.
Writing this made my cunt wet and nothing really happens, apart from holding her while she freaks out he has not laid a finger on her, yet, but the suggestion is clearly there and the scene is set and it seriously turns me on. The kink of the week topic is Kidnapping/captive and I spent rather a long time pondering it and have come to the conclusion that the captive part definitely works for me and features in my fantasies but the kidnapping bit oddly does not. When I think about scenarios like this the captive element is the bit that I focus on. I can honestly say I have never had a fantasy or got off on the thought of being kidnapped and trust me when I say I have some seriously wild fantasies but being grabbed by the masked man and bundled into the back of a van, or some variation of this, has never been one of them. The concept of being held captive, used and abused, the whole sinister element to that is definitely something I have explored in my photography a great deal. I love the suggestions images like that make, the dirt, the taboo, the fight for survival, the conflicting ideas of a something deeply wrong and disturbing and yet also hot at the same time, are all themes that I find exciting. I love creating challenging images that play with the darkest themes of human sexual nature.
However, despite the fact that it does not turn me on I do find myself fascinated by it in that macabre way. I am drawn to stories and books that chronicle tales of stalkers and kidnappings. My favourite Ian McEwan book is a perfect example, Enduring Love, and a recent discovery of mine The Collector by John Fowles; a dark sinister tale that most definitely fits into the kidnapping/captive genre. If you have not read it I highly recommended it, it is great writing with an ending that will make you shiver and whilst I could not claim to have got off on it per se, it definitely made my heart pound and my eyes widen and I did find myself imaging a fair more explicit sexual narrative to the story when I closed the book and lay back in my bed at night. There was definitely a part of me who wanted him to fuck her senseless.
Clearly there is a power dynamic within a kidnap scenario that totally speaks to my kink. The stories of gang bang rape really don’t do it for me; they are too ‘violent’ and out of control. However, when the kidnapper is calm and patient with an element of cold detachment about them, I find myself being far more turned on. Recently @domsigns started writing a kidnap story on This D/s Life, the opening scene totally hooked me in, The Grey Man was so detached, determined, dangerous and that does something for me, but the one part of it that really turned me on was Abigail’s punishment, not because of what the kidnapper did to her but because of his attitude and demeanour. His confidence in himself and his physical strength, the way he found her feisty behaviour a turn on and his delight in the fight all made seriously wet and yet despite all that I find myself oddly uncomfortable with it at the same time but it is that very discomfort that draws me to it. I think reading stories like this is my version of getting on a roller coaster (something I never do because I hate them) in that I get to explore that fear and thrill mixed with strange disgust and repulsion at the whole thing, in an environment where I know that ultimately I am safe… or am I?