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From: Spoonbender <Theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk>
Subject: The Boxvan (bd, nc, slavery)
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The boxvan (bd, nc, slavery) 
 ********************************************************************
(c) 1997 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read
by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are underage
then don't read. Contains some nc sex and a bit of sexual slavery, but
then again most of my stories do. Can be freely distributed as long as
it is not changed, including this heading. If it is to archived on a
fee paying archive then please email me first for permission. 
 Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you
want put into words etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content
or you don't like my style. My address is
theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk. 
 ******************************************************************* 
 I don't why we did it really. It started innocently enough. Kathy and
I were into bondage and stuff.   One thing led to another and..... 
 Listen I'd better tell you the story from the beginning. On one
condition though, you must print the story. I want you to help me. I
know she's out there. You've got to help me find her. 
 You will? Good. 
 Here goes. 
 I don't know how we found out that we were both into the master/slave
stuff. It started pretty early in our marriage. You know,  little
things said, thinking aloud, innuendo. We sounded each other out for
weeks. It was like a kind of jigsaw. How far is she gonna go with her
desires and fetishes. How far was I going to go? We fenced around each
other, each of us frightened we were going to put the other one off by
being too outrageous, too bizzarre. 
 Kind of fun, kind of scarey. 
 Kathy was fresh faced. She didn't need makeup that's for sure.
Beautiful too, dark hair tumbling over her shoulders like a raven's
wing, smokey grey eyes smouldered like victor's fires from beneath her
long, dark eyelashes. A slightly wide mouth under a slightly pug nose
gave her the girl next door look.  
 Which is what she was.  
 We grew up together. Never knowing a thing about each other's
obsessions. I watched her develop from a gawky, prepubescent teenager
to a beautiful and bashful young woman. She was slim, 5 feet 8 inches.
Her breasts were a neat handful and her body was audaciously curved. 
 We started off pretty lightly. We didn't really want to frighten each
other. So we started with a few rope tricks, tying her in various
positions and states of undress. We warmed to the theme and started
adding humiliation. You know trips down the mall in extremely short
skirts with no panties, made to wear a dog collar all day at work,
that sort of stuff. Our sexlife was amazing. We both used to dash home
from work and play until the early hours.  
 Dildos came next, vibrators, dongs, pumps. You name it I stuck it in
her. At first strictly behind closed doors, then being forced to wear
a small dildo to work. Then a vibrator, switched on and chained inside
her with a chainmail chastity belt. It was fun. She didn't seem to
enjoy it at the time, but afterwards..... Boy did we rock the joint. 
 Then she really did blow my fuses. She wanted to be fucked by someone
else. That nearly did it for me but she worked on me like only a woman
can do. I gave in. Besides I was curious. Which man wouldn't be, at
least in his mind. Watching your wife get fucked by someone else. In
the end it was quite a turn on. We'd rented a room in this really
seedy hotel in the industrial part of town. It just seemed to fit
somehow. We planned and plotted it for weeks. Then it was the day. We
drove there and we pulled into this late night diner. There were a few
trucker types there and a wino or two. There were also a couple of
workmen, in overalls with the power company insignia on the back.
Kathy nodded towards them and gulped. I really believe she was
steeling herself up to it, as our collective fantasy here, was for me
to force her to have sex with another man. 
 She whispered to me to choose which one. I decided to up the stakes. 
 Both. I wanted her to fuck them both.  
 She shook her head, suddenly looking scared. No safeword yet though,
so she was still chewing the idea around in her head. She looked down.
She'd made a decision, she'd do it, the obedient slavegirl. 
 It was all so easy. There can't be red blooded guy alive that
couldn't leave a half eaten danish and a cup of stewed coffee for a
roll in the hay with a beautiful woman. These two were no exception.
She was taken to the hotel room and they both fucked her, numerous
times. We talked afterwards about the scene. It was incredibly erotic
and she enjoyed herself immensely. But it had scared her a little.
These guys added a whole new dimension to the situation. They didn't
know, or want to know, the safeword. If it all got too much then she
had no way of stopping it, she'd just have to grin and bear it. 
 We were cool for a while then I started to build up the humiliation
and pain so she must have known something was coming up. She just hung
on for the ride and the view. Finally I worked her up to a fully
restrained, spread wide, gagged and blindfolded gangbang. 
 This time she really was nervous but I had spent weeks planning this
so in a way I suppose I would have been pissed if she'd got cold feet.
I could sense she wanted to talk about it some more to really get used
to the idea in her head before we went ahead. If we went ahead. In a
way this was the threshold of something different. We'd had bondage
before and sex with bondage. But never to satisfy anyone else's lust.
I was so turned on by the idea I just sort of pushed it forward
dragging her, mentally kicking and screaming, behind. 
 Same room. Same seedy Hotel. Same dark and dirty part of town. I
could tell she was nervous as we went in. My senses told me she was
really not very keen on this. It was too early, but I pretended not to
understand. It was stupid really but there you go, we all make
mistakes. I whisked her into the room and gagged her before she could
say a word. It was one of those leather things you can lock. I pulled
on a pair of thickly lined pads to cover her eyes and locked it to the
gagmask. 
 Then I stripped her. Now she was fighting, but it could have been
sham, we'd played this scene so many times before and she had loved
it. Now the stakes were higher, much higher. In fact only I knew how
high. She was naked and struggling as I heaved her down on the bed. I
turned her on her front and handcuffed her hands behind her. I then
turned her over and pulled her legs apart, tying them wide with a rope
under the bed. As a final touch I tied her throat to the headboard
with her long, silk scarve. 
 I trawled the diners and bars and assembled the biggest cast of
roughnecks and hardmen ever seen outside of a hollywood movie. Nine it
worked out to in the end. Nine men she had to satisfy, her muffled
screaming turning us on like crazy. I flipped her mind when I charged
them for it. Fifty cents a time. I told them that she probably wasn't
worth more. They all got their fifty cents worth that night.  
 It was dawn when the party finally broke up. Kathy looked a mess.
There couldn't have been an inch of flesh on her which didn't have a
thick coating of dried sperm on it. Between her legs it was like a
glacier of slow moving ice as the sperm oozed out of her sex. I'd
forgotten to bring the condoms, they were still sitting on the kitchen
worktop.  
 We didn't say much for a couple of days. I was freaked out that I'd
pushed it too far, too fast. I really enjoyed it though, so I was
really solitious to her. Finally she came round, probably after the
soreness had gone away, and admitted it was fun in a scarey, tingling
sort of way. 
 Slowly, slowly we put together another scenario. She didn't want to
be fucked again by a pack of men.   It had hurt and she had been
publicly humiliated, as well as aroused. Now she just wanted the
innuendo. The scene setting and not the act. Spine trembling enough to
give her the buzz she craved, we both craved, but not the final
denouement. 
 So it was she was lying on a dirty mattress in the back of a rental
van. She was naked and spread eagled and stringently tied. She again
wore the mask and gag so she couldn't see the signs but she knew they
were there. I'd made her write them herself. I'm a slut, fuck me hard,
use me, free cunt - just take it. Big letters on poster sized pieces
of card. They were hung all over the inside of the van walls. She
couldn't see, she couldn't speak. She could just listen as she heard
the signs of the mean street going on around her through the
fibreglass sides of the boxvan. 
 I watched from a distance, close enough to make sure nothing went
wrong. I could imagine her there, helpless thinking that just the
other side of a few millimeters of fibraglass there were vast numbers
of men who could read the signs and take her at her word. Or just take
her. 
 I was mugged.  
 It was just plain bad luck. They saw my watch. My Rolex Oyster,
bought for me on my eighteenth birthday by my father. I wasn't keen to
hand it over. There was a brief tussle and I ended up in Hospital with
a hairline fracture of the skull. 
 I was frantic with worry for Kathy, so I discharged myself as soon as
I could stand up without having dizzy spells. I really had lost track
of time and my memory kept drifting in and out. It took two days of
driving around before I found the street where I'd left her. I hardly
recognised it in the light.  
 She was gone, so was the van. 
 I went to the police and they launched a manhunt. They honestly
thought they were dealing with a homicide. In the end a lack of
resources and no body led them to scale down the enquiry. After a
couple of months I think they quietly let it drop. The 'We are doing
all we can, no stone is being left unturned' crap told me that they
thought I'd made up some sort of tale to cover up for the fact that my
very attractive - they'd seen the photographs - wife had run off with
some stud or other. Secretly I suspect that they thought that any guy
who helplessly tie down a naked woman in a place like that is probably
walking round with three bolts short of a Chrysler. At the very least
I didn't deserve her back. 
 I kept looking, but it was hopeless. The van would have had a colour
and plate change weeks ago. I could be standing next to it and not
recognise it. I hadn't taken much notice of it on the night. 
 Then I got a letter. It was on cheap notepaper, that seemed to have
been torn from something, in an envelope with the address and no
stamp. I was suprised it got delivered it was so crumpled and grubby.
God bless the US Mail service. 
 It was Kathy. 
 I was right, they had changed the colour of the van and the plates.
But now my beautiful Kathy had become one of the van's fittings. They
had chained her ankle to the inside wall of the van and now it was
used as a mobile brothel. They travelled round all the small towns in
the deep south getting the rednecks to fuck her for fifty dollars a
go. She could hear her kidnappers taking the money and the impatient
shouts of a seemingly never ending  queue of lusty clients as she lay
servicing man after man. 
 It had taken her weeks to scavenge the material together to be able
to write this letter. Furtively tearing pages out of a discarded
schoolbook and then finding a grubby envelope on the rare occaisions
she was allowed out to clean herself or cook for her captors. She had
actually found the pencil inside the van. It was crude and blunt, a
carpenters pencil, but it sufficed.  The stamp had defeated her, so
she had taken a chance and had mailed it anyway. Hoping it would get
to me.  
 She was sorry, she said. It nearly wanted to make me cry. She was
sorry that things hadn't quite worked out right. She hated this life
but she had gotten used to it. They moved on too much for me to be
able to catch them up. But please try. She finished. If you love me
then find me and take me home. 
 I tried for a long time. I left my job, used up all my money. But
they always seemed to be days, if not weeks, ahead of me and they
followed a random pattern. So I gave up, which is why I am talking to
you now. 
 Can you pass the message to her captors. Tell them to return her and
neither of us will file charges.   They can keep the money, it must be
running into the tens of thousands of bucks by now. Just let me have
her back. 
 ******************************************************************** 
 FOOTNOTE: I'm looking for a lady who enjoys my type of writing and
who is prepared to colloborate with me on future stories. You will
naturally share the credit, such as it is. If you are her. Then please
email me. 
 Spoonbender. 
 


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