Escape Artist


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by John Savage

Ropes, handcuffs and bondage are Stella’s life. After all, she makes a living as an escape artist, performing night after night in front of eager audiences. But one of her excited admirers, Thomas Crofton, is interested in doing more than just watching her. He also happens to be very rich, and makes his money by kidnapping beautiful women and selling them abroad as sex slaves. The FBI is on to him, and his interest in Stella is the ideal opportunity for them. Unfortunately, Stella falls into his trap and despite the best effort of the FBI to find her, she becomes a prisoner in bondage from which even she cannot escape, used and abused for Thomas Crofton’s kinky, painful games and for his sexual pleasure.

Published: 3 / 2010         No. words: 39,650EX1t

“I intend to keep you as a pet. You are a very good fuck. About the best I ever had. That body… And the way you move… How tight you are… You are all a man could ever want. All I could want. I shall find much pleasure in keeping you as a prisoner.”

“For how long?” She was hoping he might have only a short time in mind.

“How long? As long as you are still sexy. As long as you are still fun to tightly bind and torment. Have you ever been whipped?”

The last question took her off guard. Suddenly he was introducing a new element – sadism. He would not be content with just keeping her a prisoner and screwing her when he felt like it. He was going to hurt her. She knew it deep inside. She had known many men and knew those who liked to hurt a woman. As with keeping them tied up, it created an almost overpowering sense of power. To not only control a woman, but also to inflict pain was a powerful aphrodisiac.

She also knew much more about the psychology of the whole domination/submission scene. She was not all that much into it but had many experiences with people who took it to heart. Bondage was just one tool of those people, not a wonderful end in itself the way Stella felt about it. So she asked him, “Do I call you ‘Master’? And you call me ‘slave’?”

He tilted his head back and laughed. “Oh, you are a good one! Yes, call me Master if you want. Or don’t. I don’t care. I am your Master, your owner. Simple words spoken or not spoken will not change that. It is ropes and chains and handcuffs and locks that make me the Master over you. Think of yourself as a ‘slave’; it may help you come to accept your new life. Or don’t. Fight me all you can, that is okay with me. In fact, I would rather you did. Makes owning and training you all the more of a challenge and much more satisfying in the end.”

Stella bowed her head, not in submission but in defeat. She was losing this word game, just as she had lost her freedom. She would fight him; they both knew that. She vowed to herself never to give in to the man. He might have her body and would use or abuse it as he wished, but he would never have her mind.

Still, she knew something about this kind of man. He would sexually use her, and would cause her pain at times. He might call it ‘punishment’ for some imagined misdeed or for no reason. But he would do it. There was nothing she could do about that. But… And this was a big ‘but’: she need not antagonize him. Do not give him reason to inflict more pain than he would otherwise. Be meek and submissive. Survive and keep your eyes open for a chance to strike out and run.

Good advice. She hoped she could adhere to it.

Strangely, as she sat there, heavily shackled, she found the sweet smell of his pipe tobacco pleasing. It reminded her of some boys back in college who thought it made them look more academic if they smoked a pipe.

“My men will now take you to your room,” he continued. “I had it fixed up just like a prison cell. I’m sure you will like it. It is escape-proof. Which is good, because it is not really practical to keep you chained up like this every minute of the day, now is it?”

She said nothing. A few moments later the two henchmen picked her up and carried off to a life of imprisonment.



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