Chapter 1 - Captured

 

It was the close of another beautiful day, the sun dying, over to my left, over the hills in the distance, its light splitting into singular rays as it dipped behind the hill tops. I stood there like a statue, bathing in the beauty of this spot. In front and to my left slightly was a small village, to me from England, but more of a small town, here. It was on the sunny side of the bay and facing south. Directly in front, was a small island in the bay with a larger town dead ahead below my vantage point. Over to my right was another town, a holiday town all hustle and bustle.

To think this beauty was being seen from a gun emplacement, now dismantled, after World War Two, and just the concrete bases were here, as mementos of past troubles. The evening didn't cool that much at this time of year, as temperatures soared into the mid to high thirties, sometimes going over forty degrees, during the day, and this had been one of them reaching forty one degrees.

I had moved to the island from England to rest and relax, doing some writing, more as a hobby than a job. A win on the lottery had made my dream come true, and I could afford to retire early, very early.

I took a deep breath and turned to leave, walking back to my car and then I drove home. As I neared my apartment I couldn't find a parking space, it was the height of summer and all the locals who had flats here for the summer now filled the car parking spaces, not everything can be perfect.

By the time I parked I was well away from my apartment on the other side of the fields. These fields were in the centre of the town which I found fascinating. Can you imagine say fifteen acres of fields surrounded by four story apartment blocks? I began the walk and decided to take a short cut across the fields. By now it was pitch black, with no moon.

I saw the people coming towards me as shadows, outlines against the soft pastel shades of the apartment blocks in front of me. We passed I said hello, but they didn't speak, which is unusual here, and then I felt a hand take my arm, I swung around. As I turned, a bag was put over my head, just covering my eyes and my other arm was grabbed. There were four of them, so I stood little or no chance blindfolded, and my arms being held.

I struggled, it is natural, but as soon as I opened my mouth to shout for help, something acrid was stuffed into it, and tape was put over my mouth, and the bag pulled down fully, and tied. I presumed that one of my assailants must have lifted the bag up so that a second person could stuff the cloth in. My arms were being held by two of them, so I kicked out into thin air, they knew what they were doing, keeping clear of my feet as they held me and I kicked out. I knew it was the four people that had just walked passed me, yet it seemed as though there were a dozen hands on me. I could have sworn that they were young females; two of them definitely were, their chests were the proof of that. I was soon on the floor on my face, a knee was pushed into my knee and I went down onto my knees and then I was pushed onto my face. They were tying my hands behind my back held by the two who had taken hold and a third tying them. I was pinned down by two, three or even four sets of knees pinning me to the ground, the knees seemed to be all over my back and one was on my neck holding me down.

They were good, in seconds they had me on the ground and my hands tied, and they had not spoken a word, as if it were choreographed, they knew exactly what each one of them was supposed to do, and they did it efficiently. I began to wonder what they wanted. Why they had picked on me? How they knew that I would be there? Was it me they wanted, or was I just unfortunate? They also had a problem, to get to the vehicle if they were using one, they would need to take me into a public area, with street lights. It was after all still only about nine in the evening, and there were several people on the streets. They were so efficient that I decided that they had thought of that, as I heard footsteps and another person joined them. They were dragging something; I heard it scraping on the ground. I was bungled into a box on my side, and tied down, my ankles, hands, waist and head were strapped into place, and the lid closed, and the hasp fastened. I heard the click of a lock, and I was carried, and loaded into a van, I presumed. The base of the box scrapped on the floor as they slid me in.

The van started up and we drove off. I began to panic, I was gagged, blindfolded and securely tied up, and now secured in a box which at least four people had carried, just a large box, and now it was inside a van, and we were on the move, this was not good, not good at all.

As yet I didn't know what I had done, if anything? I could retire, but I was by no means a wealthy person, I didn't have millions, well just the seven and a quarter million I had won, which was my investment, for my income, I was comfortable.

My island, as I called it, is only a small island, and in about half an hour, you can drive from one end to the other, so my ride wasn't very long. Then the box was lifted and carried, and from the rocking motion, I was being put on a boat a small one, from the gentle swaying. The engine started and then when it stopped, there was the metal clang of metal on metal and I was lifted up and up high, this time. I guessed I was being transferred from the small boat, perhaps a fishing type vessel onto a larger ship. I began to panic more and more as time passed. I couldn't sleep although I was now tired after my day in the sun, but fear kept me awake.

I dozed, I must have the rocking of the ship must have sent me to sleep, because it wasn't that long before the rocking stopped a few hours, I presumed. Finally I felt the lift again, and then the lowering again, and this time a long way down, and thump onto something hard, then that moved off. There was no motion as there was on the transfer from the van to the boat. This was now a vehicle on land, which I knew it was when the engine started and confirmed my thoughts.

I had lost track of time, but I was very thirsty and needed a pee again, and I was desperate, so much so that I did it in my pants again. I couldn't wait any longer that was the third time I had, had to wet myself, this wasn't a short journey. Since I had been put on the truck I had already wet myself, on the truck, whilst on the boat, and now I was beginning to smell like a public toilet. Again I wasn't as tired as I should have been, if I hadn't slept, so I must have, but I didn't remember sleeping.

Finally the vehicle stopped, and I heard the sound of a fork lift truck. I was lifted and lowered, then moved off and put down. Then whatever I was put on began to descend lower and lower, it went like a lift down and down. It stopped and I heard a thud on the side of the crate, and then it was tilted slightly backwards, then the movement was slower, and I guessed I was being carried and reaching the end of my journey. I was now on a trolley of some kind, and being pushed along by a person. We went around tight corners, ninety degree angles, so I guessed that I was inside a building, and along and finally it came to rest, and there was a click, as I presumed the brake was put on, and then I was lifted and put down again.

I again waited, and waited until I heard the sound of electric screwdrivers, and the creaking of wood as it gave up its hold. Hands got hold of me, and the straps were undone and I was lifted out and stood up.

"Kneel slave," a female voice ordered.

I knew that voice, it was my Mistress, what was happening, I began to shake in fear, I had told her of a dream I had, had, and I did not like the outcome of the dream.

"Well slave, how was it? You always wanted to be kidnapped, now you have been, and to where, you have no idea. There was a sea voyage, and a long truck drive, a very long truck drive, smuggled out off your island, and transported to another country, without your passport, an illegal immigrant.

Now, you will be my slave, you have no option, do you? How do you get out? That is easy when you know the way, but you don't, we are three stories underground, you will be shackled or tied up until I am happy of your devotion, to me. You will be locked in your cell, and made to do as I tell you, or suffer the consequences. I have little pity, or mercy; as you well know. So how does it feel to be kidnapped and at my mercy? Is it as exciting as you imagined, or are you miserable lying in piss soaked pants? Why did you piss them was it fear or desire?

As my favourite slave, I have engineered this little exercise for my own satisfaction. You see Mistress's also have dreams, and I wanted to see if it was possible, it was. You were the one that told me about your dream and as you know there is always a tribute to be paid. I have given you your dream to be kidnapped and made into a sissy slave, and now you will pay my tribute.

You will be my sissy slave that is my price, and seeing as I have completed my part, you will, or you will be made to complete your part of the deal. Now you will pay me for the effort I put into kidnapping you.

Knowing you, I think you will now start to enjoy my little surprise, but I warn you, I am not allowing you to say mercy, the pain I inflict will be till I am satisfied, the misery I put you through will be as deep, as I choose, as will the humiliation and depravation.

My fee for the kidnap and transport will be paid in time served, that comes to six months as my sissy slave, but you are not there yet, there is still the training, yet to come. So shall we say a twelve month period, one month of training, followed by six months of service as my sissy slave, and five months to pay for training you making twelve months?

I am not and never was cheap, as you well know. That I should think will be adequate payment for my personal attention in time, plus the trouble and expense, I incurred," she said and gripped my chin and stroked my face gently, "Now, how does it feel to be kidnapped, still interested, excited, or worrying about your pain levels, which I will stretch, I can assure you. As I will on all the things.

This floor is all mine for the duration, it is cheap, very cheap, actually free, and totally separate from the above storage depot. You can scream and no-one will hear you, except me, and the slaves I brought with me, to help me in this little torment I selected, for you.

I wonder if you will think it little, as the pain and humiliation begin, but for now you must be hungry and thirsty. Stay on your knees, and I will have a slave feed you, if you are not in the same position as you are in now, then she will not feed you, do you understand me?" she asked, introducing me to my new environment, and as she had said, this was the dream I had told her of, several times now. I waited in anticipation for the meal, my fears all gone; this was playing, or was it, the kidnap felt real enough.

Chapter 2 - Dreams, Reality

 

I began to remember telling my Mistress all about the dream I had, had, about being kidnapped, tied up in bondage, and then transported far away, it had given me a hard-on, as retelling the dream had. Which she had noticed and smiled at me, then made me lose it, as punishment, all in the game of slave and dominatrix.

Now I must admit to being anxious, yet relaxed. In my dream I had been made a slave in a foreign country, and they did not, to me anyway, speak English, gestures told me what to do, giving them the perfect excuse to use the cat on me, flogging me to make me do as they told me. The woman in charge would say point to me, then a box, and then a place, and as most people would do; I gave her a funny look, and felt the cat on my back. She would repeat the gesture with some urgency. I just asked if they wanted me to move the box, but she didn't answer, except to give me another stroke of the cat, so I guessed that was what they wanted, and I moved the box.

So I had dreamt it, and told her, wasn't that nice of my Mistress to accommodate me, in this way? That was where the anxiety came in, they had flogged me without mercy, making me do things, slave for them, as I had told her. Was she going to make me relive that dream, in its entirety?

As her slave in her dungeon I could if the pain exceeded my pain levels, use the safe word, but what was it she had just said, I was not allowed to use the safe word, now you can understand, my anxieties.

I had been moved from one country to another, but where? North Africa wasn't that far, places like Libya, Morocco and Egypt, are quite close to Mediterranean islands. I did not speak Libyan, just how realistic was she going to make this? How accurate would my imprisonment be, and my slavery? So far it had been pretty accurate, I had been humbled the wet patch on my pants was not small; humiliatingly I knelt there, humbled and humiliated.

I was aching from kneeling before the door opened again, and the hood was taken off and the gag removed, so that she could feed me. I hadn't seen her at the Mistress's dungeons before, and wondered where or why she was a slave to my Mistress.

She obviously wasn't English, not that you could tell these days there were so many black people in England, she could quite easily have been, I suppose, but I knew she would or could not speak English. Africa, hum, interesting, near the northern coast, they were shall we say, tanned, but as you went deeper into the country the colour darkened, and she was black, so it didn't help me, as to where I was, I could still be in the north of Africa, and she had moved here, or I could be in her country, in central Africa.

She knelt before me and spoon fed me the stew, and gave me water to drink, then she got up and walked out, locking the door as she left. I decided to get up and look around my new home. It wasn't much, four walls of stone, not blocks, it was the stone the room had been carved out of, as was the floor solid rock, everywhere I looked was solid stone and I was surprised to see that the roof was also out of the same stone. I was in a cave, perhaps carved out of solid stone, only the door was not made out of the stone. There was no window, with a bare light bulb hanging forlorn in the middle.

One wall had the door in it, a solid steel door with a grill that could be opened from the outside, but was closed now. There was a bed on one wall, and it was screwed to the floor, and a bucket in a corner. It was not my idea of the Hilton hotel, but it had all I needed, except that I couldn't pull my pants down. I hung on and waited, expecting her to come back at any moment. The plastic sheet on the mattress made me wonder if she was going to allow me to remove my pants just yet, or not, and I sat on the bucket and had a piss, and then I lay on the bed, my wet pants keeping me awake, but after some time I went to sleep.

"Good morning," she said bright and cheerful when she entered,

"Isn't it funny, you have been on the travel for some time and kept here as well now for a short period, so what day, is it? Do you have any idea? We picked you up on Friday, so is it Saturday, or Sunday, or Monday or, do I need to mention all the days. I don't, do I? You know it isn't a week since we picked you up, but the day or time of day, you have no idea.

This is my first torment for you, if you want to work it out, I will stop all means of you doing so. As I have done already, you see you slept on the boat and truck; I made sure of that with an undetectable gas, no smell, no colour, just something that made you sleep. How long for I know as I do what day it is and what time of day, but you have no idea, the boat, the truck even in here you have just woken, is it morning as I said or am I messing with your mind?

Meals will come as I choose, the light will go on and off as I choose, I now control your day, the length, and the time," she said.

She clapped her hands and the three slaves came in with a chair, a bucket and a stirrup pump with a length of hose attached.

"Next your clothes, do you really enjoy wearing those smelly, dirty clothes, you really do smell like a public toilet, disgusting. So first I need to decide on your sex, and then I can provide you with appropriate clothing, don't I?" she asked me.

"Yes Mistress," I said sullenly.

"Whilst I do that you can strip, and sit on the chair," she told me.

I got up, and the slaves untied my hands and I stripped, and sat on the chair as directed, it had a hole in the seat, which my bottom stuck through like a toilet seat. The slaves fastened straps to my wrists and ankles then put one around my waist.

You may ask why was I being compliant, well I had asked her to do this to me so at this moment in time I thought it was her acting out my dream, and now you will think me stupid, but I was living, my dream.

"Lovely, nice and tight, is it?" she asked the slaves, they nodded, "Good you may begin. The other way to tell the day is by the times you go to the toilet, most people go once every day, you will not. We are going to clean you out, which means' that it will take longer than one day for you to want to go again. This is called Colonic Irrigation or an Enema, and it will become a regular thing so that you will have no means at all, of working out the day. Have you ever had one before?" she asked.

"No Mistress," I said, I was now anxious.

"A very simple procedure, but degrading for you, the slaves will push a tube up your arse, then pump warm soapy water up. She will then remove the tube, and you have to hold on till I say you can let go," she took my chin in her hand and tilted my face up to look into her gorgeous eyes, "Pain awaits you, if you don't hold on till I say," she said gently, but with meaning.

I fidgeted as they inserted the pipe, it was uncomfortable and disconcerting, as it was when they pumped the soapy water into me, and it filled my bowel, then they removed the pipe, and I was so, so desperate to let go, but I had to hold on and wait, she had said so, I am sure I turned bright red with the effort I was putting in, till she said, "Now you may relieve yourself."

The relief as I emptied my bowel was beyond words, after the struggle of holding on. They took the bucket out and then inserted the pipe again.

"I want to be sure, so I will repeat the procedure," she said calmly.

Finally I was untied from the chair and made to kneel before my Mistress like a true slave. She clapped her hands and two slaves came in wearing leather strapping as clothing, their breasts fully exposed, I felt my old man trying to stiffen, he rose gracefully as I looked at the two pairs of water melons, firm and juicy, and pointing at me.

"We will have none of that," she said, and hit him with the crop she was holding, I winced as I felt the sting of her crop and he died, "Now you may bathe," she said.

The three earlier slaves entered carrying a tin bath and buckets of water, they had also got changed into the leather strapping, and again my dick made moves, but I managed to control him better. The bath was filled and I got in, she went to the trolley they had wheeled in, and selected a bottle and handed it to a slave, who came over to the bath and poured some of the contents in, it smelled like roses.

"More slave, it stinks, put half the bottle in, I want it to smell nice, like we do, because I have decided on an outfit. I think a nice sissy outfit for you, and a device. I want you to suffer the pains of sexual denial; you will get all the signals all the signs, and feelings, I will ensure that you do, but you won't be able to enjoy them, because the device won't let you. I haven't used one on you before, have I?" she asked calmly, eyeing me up and down.

"No Mistress," I said, still in a sullen voice.

I presume it was expected I was supposed to be their victim, so I played my part as well. I was unsure it was a game anymore, pissing my pants was not part of it, neither was the Enema, or the device she had just mentioned, but I was her prisoner and had to do as told, or feel pain, I was nervous now about that, so I was doing as told.

My dream or was it now going to be a nightmare, had begun, I had wanted to be a sissy slave to her, and she had dressed me and made me clean a bit of her leather, but now the reality was beginning to get to me.

Was it really what I wanted, to be turned into a sissy slave, I mean. I didn't realise that I would be covered in scent. I couldn't go down to the pub with the lads smelling like this, could I? They'd laugh at me, but I was in too deep now, and the smell would wear off, wouldn't it, in a few hours? I'd been here for longer than that, hopefully less than a week, it can only be Saturday. She is just trying to upset me, make me frightened, it was all part of her little game, what fun!

Bathed by the sexy, nubile girls and dried, I stood before her as told to, my arms by my side; she circled me appraising what she saw. It may seem odd, but apart from the early part where I didn't know what was happening and experienced the fear and uncertainty, this was fun.

"Hum, OK you at least smell better now, what is that?" She asked me pointing at the stubble around my groin.

"It's err, stubble, Mistress," I replied uneasily.

"Stubble, indeed it is, did I say that you could allow your pubic hairs to grow?" she asked.

"No, mistress," I said now getting ill at ease, yet not, this was part of the game.

"Why is it there then?" she asked.

"I, err, I-I got lazy," I replied.

"You what!" she exclaimed.

"I, err well I got lazy, Mistress, I was not due to see you, so I didn't bother, shaving," I said, now shaking.

"You come to me in England, make several visits, begging me to take you on, I do, but I normally deal with women, but in some circumstances, I do take a male slave on, and I did, and you ignore my instructions because you got lazy," she was now shouting at me, and I was shaking at the ferocity of her voice.

"Y-yes, Mistress, sorry Mistress," I bleated.

"Sorry, sorry, you will be, touch your toes," she instructed me, I bent over.

"One, two, three, four, five, six," she counted as she gave me six strokes with her crop, and every one hurt.

"Stand up, I am not finished with my inspection, yet," she told me forcefully.

I stood upright, she circled me again, this time when she came back to the front; she lifted my balls with her crop and studied them. The attention and the crop had, had an effect on him, and he was no-longer limp, she dropped my balls and hit him, with the crop.

"Ouch," I yelled and almost crumpled.

"Well control it," she ordered me, "Get the blunt razor I used this morning to shave my legs and clit; that will do for it. I also want all the hair, removed, from neck down," she instructed them, "My slave is a wimp, don't let that stop you, it needs to learn that it does as told and does not, get lazy," she told them.

She sat in a chair that had been brought in for her, and clicked her fingers, a slave handed her a cigarette and lit it for her, and she smoked it whilst they removed all the hairs. Until the razor came they put a waxy substance on my legs. It was nice and warm, quite enjoyable, and then stuck paper to it and yanked the paper off, now not enjoyable, and I yelled as the hairs on my legs gave way to the wax and paper.

"Just be thankful that I don't make them do that all over," she said, between puffs.

Clean dry and hairless, I was instructed to sit in a chair, my feet were put on a rest and my ankles fastened to the rest. My wrists were fastened to the arms of the chair and an attachment was put on the front, with two bowls of water in it. They pushed my hands down, indicating that I needed to put my fingers in the bowls, I did.

They gave my toe nails a pedicure, and then painted them a deep red, now I was getting worried, but it will come off with nail polish remover, won't it? The slaves worked in silence; they knew exactly what to do. After a few moments she lifted my hands up, and the bowls were covered, the slave dried my fingers, then she began to shape my finger nails, finishing by painting them a deep red, as well.

A slave now pulled my head back; it rested on a shaped piece in the back of the chair. She put another piece in the front that held my head in place, and then she poured water on my hair and applied something to it.

I had decided that now that I was an artist, an author, I could allow my hair to grow long. I did have a nice head of hair, straight, but a full head and it was down to my shoulders almost, making me look artier, a bohemian type.

After she had put whatever it was on, she then took a pair of tweezers and I saw them coming at my eyes, and I felt the tug, and said,

"Ouch," as the hair gave way to the pull, and came out, then another, as she began to shape my eye brows.

"Mistress please, this hurts, mercy," I moaned.