CAPTIVITY

Postby respectfulbondage » Wed Sep 08, 2010 12:54 pm

Shirley was almost always the last player on the team to leave the locker room before a game. She was a beautiful young African American woman; over six feet tall with an athletic physique that would have been the envy of women all over the world. Such athleticism wasn't hard to comprehend, after all she was a senior in her final year of competition, an all-star and the captain of her collegiate volleyball team. After four years of intense training, she was superior to her teammates in every area from physical strength to stamina, even her results on the vertical and horizontal jump tests were significantly higher. She was the ideal athlete and a perfect leader; as a result she would spend several minutes alone after he teammates had left to go onto the court to build herself before a game. This year, far more than any other, she felt compelled to shoulder the burden of carrying her team; the expectations of this year's squad were high and this would be her last chance to win a national title. They had come oh so close before; after qualifying for the title match and losing the heartbreaking duel over five games the year before, Shirley was ready to lead them back to it again.

Slipping a pair of small headphones into her ears, she drowns out all the pressure and all of the distractions buzzing around in her mind with her favorite playlist of motivational music. Lacing up her shoes and pulling her socks up to just below her knees, Shirley is ready to take on the first game of the year. As she removes the headphone from her ears, she can hear the door to the locker room creak audibly; someone had come in. Presuming it to be a group of her teammates who had grown impatient, she shouts dismissively, "I'll be right out." Giggling with amusement, she shakes her head and mutters, "Must be the freshmen; they're just not used to his routine of mine yet." Hearing the sound of more footsteps squeaking across the cleanly mopped tile floor, Shirley becomes mildly irritated. "I said I'd be right out," she exclaims. Still under the impression that its the underclassmen girls who have returned to hurry her out onto the court, she mutters under her breath, "They just don't know me as well as the other girls; I've always done this since my first day of practice as a freshman." Springing up and off of the bench enthusiastically, she kicks her lean, muscular legs to loosen them up and runs in place energetically before declaring, "Okay, okay, I'm coming now!" As she turns a corner around a wall of lockers and emerges into the hallway that leads to the exit of the locker room, she's greeted unexpectedly by a group of darkly clad young men; each of them appears burly and strong.

Startled at first, Shirley regains her composure long enough to ask, "You're not supposed to be back here guys; if you want autographs I'll be happy to stay after and sign anything you have." "We're not here for that," one of them declares ominously as he steps forward from the other three. It doesn't take long for Shirley's instincts to take over; these men were looking for trouble. As the other three men begin to maneuver their way closer towards her, Shirley tenses every muscle in her body in preparation to defend herself should they make a move on her. Trying to stay calm, she asks casually, "What do you guys want if not an autograph?" One of them men standing in front of her mutters threateningly, "You!" Lunging at her unexpectedly, Shirley reaches forward and clutches the man by his shirt. Exerting the strength in her arms, which for a woman was quite impressive, she whirls the stranger around and shoves him into a wall of lockers with a loud bang. As one of the other men that had positioned himself beside her lunges as well, Shirley thrusts one of her legs forward and delivers a powerful kick to the man's midsection; sending him staggering backward into one of the concrete walls with an audible thud. One of the four men who has remained a safe distance away, choosing not to engage in the tussle that is unfolding in front of him, acknowledges silently, "She's strong; to think that she could hold off my bodyguards for any amount of time!" Unveiling a devious smile, the man concludes, "This just makes it all the more satisfying!"

Shirley clenches her fists and assumes a defensive posture while the third bodyguard who had not yet made a move begins to circle around her, waiting for an opportunity. "If you don't want a black eye," Shirley threatens, "Then you better not move one step from where you are." Unaware that the man's movement is strategic; Shirley is purposefully being distracted by the bodyguard while the other that she had flung into the lockers begins to close in on her from behind. Nodding subtly to his partner, the bodyguard shouts, "Now!" Her eyes snap open with surprise at the man’s random utterance, “What?” Detecting footsteps behind her, Shirley finally realizes what’s happening; but it’s too late. Lunging forward, the bodyguard’s massive arms encircle Shirley’s torso; grasping his hands together, the man forms an unbreakable grip around her waist. Gasping with surprise, she grabs at the man’s forearms and attempts to pry them off of her waist. Her efforts are futile though as the bodyguard pulls hard and, lifting Shirley’s kicking legs off the floor momentarily, muscles her squirming body towards the back of the locker room. The leader of the men observes silently, “That was a good fight she put up; but it’s over now.” The other two body guards react quickly and rush forward to help their partner subdue the struggling volleyball player. Grasping her leanly muscular arms, the two men overpower Shirley easily and, prying her hands off of their partner’s forearms, pin her straining arms harmlessly at her sides. Overcome with panic at the realization that she is losing her fight, Shirley resorts to the only other option left for her; scream for help.

Wisely anticipating the young woman’s next move, the bodyguard who is maintaining the grip around Shirley’s waist clasps his hand over her mouth before any plea for help can escape her lips. Screaming desperately into the bodyguard’s hand, Shirley is demoralized as her cries are effectively smothered beneath the man’s palm. Turning once again to her athleticism, Shirley exerts every last ounce of physical strength she can muster in an attempt to wrench herself free from the solid grasp of the strange men who are restraining her. The muscles in her arms strain furiously as she struggles against the bodyguards, but with the strength of their two arms against her one, her struggling is completely futile. Every time she tugs at their grip, she feels weaker and weaker. Thoroughly aggravated at how helpless the men are making her look, she screams angrily into the man’s hand and strains even harder to free herself. Using his left hand, the bodyguard who is holding Shirley from behind claps it just above her forehead and pulls her squirming head back securely against his chest. Wide eyed with fear, Shirley is overcome with a terrifying reality; she can’t escape! Fueled by panic-induced adrenaline, she screams into the man’s hand and struggles one final time to free herself before her muscles finally tire with exhaustion; her strongest pull doesn’t budge the bodyguards who are holding her arms even once inch. She relaxes her powerful, burning legs and relents from her wild bouts of kicking and calmly plants her feet onto the floor. Visibly short of breath from her struggling, Shirley’s chest heaves up and down as she reluctantly gives up her struggle. “They’ve got me,” she concedes silently, “They’re just too strong.”

“That’s a good girl,” the leader explains calmly, “It seems you’ve given up; it’s a shame you had to wear yourself out like that. There didn’t need to be a fight; you should have just come with us freely.” Jerking angrily in the men’s grasp, Shirley mutters a muffled, “Never!” “I admire your spirit and your strength; you fought much better than the others,” the man reveals mysteriously, “Your defiance is useless though; you’re coming with me and there’s nothing you can do about it. No matter the woman, the outcome is inevitable.” Overwhelmed with terror at the prospect of being kidnapped, tears begin to form in Shirley’s eyes as she mumbles almost inaudibly beneath the bodyguard’s hand, “Why are you doing this?” Ignoring her question, the man silently reaches into his back pocket and fumbles around; Shirley can hear the clinking of metal. “Oh, God!” she thinks fearfully, “A knife! He’s going to kill me!” Struggling weakly, she watches helplessly as the strange man removes a set of stainless steel handcuffs. Sighing audibly, but by no means relieved over the sight of the cuffs, Shirley thinks, “It’s better than a knife; it looks like he really is intent on kidnapping me.” Squirming uncomfortably, Shirley looks on as the man maneuvers his way to her side with the handcuffs dangling ominously on the tips of his finger. Wagging them playfully, the man explains, “It will be impossible for you to escape once I put these on you; you realize that, right?”

Her eyes growing wide with fear, Shirley starts to strain mildly in the man’s hands as the leader grabs one of her arms and snaps the handcuffs into place over her wrist. Gasping as the cold metal winds around her skin, Shirley is on the verge of sobbing; this wasn’t some crazy dream, she really was on the verge of being handcuffed and kidnapped. Reaching around behind her back, the man grasps Shirley’s other arm and twists it behind her. Groaning from the discomfort the move places of her shoulder and triceps, the young woman tries to pull her strong arm free before it can be cuffed into place; but once again, her strongest exertions go undetected in the man’s powerful grasp. Snapping the other end of the handcuffs onto her wrist, Shirley grunts as the restraints pin her arms tightly and uncomfortably behind her back; there is no room to separate her hands even an inch, the cuffs are very secure. Motioning with his hands, the leader orders two of his bodyguards to release their grip on Shirley’s arms. Stepping back, the man reveals a startling challenge, “I will give you one last chance to escape young lady; if you can break those handcuffs apart, I will let you walk out of here.” Renewed with hope at the prospect of freedom, Shirley grows ecstatic and mumbles excitedly under the man’s hand. She had regained her breath and her strength after having relaxed in the bodyguard’s hands for a little while. Straining to look behind her, she concludes after observing the cuffs, “Those are two tiny chain links holding my arms together; I can break those!”

Her expression tightens and her eyes squint as the strong volleyball player exerts every bit of muscular power she has in her upper body into snapping the handcuffs. The chain links clink loudly as Shirley grunts with furious determination; the muscles in her triceps and shoulders quiver violently under the massive strain the young woman is placing on them. The pain and the burning in her arm muscles is nearly unbearable until finally, her muscles quit. Gasping, her arms slump against the small of her back. The chain links restrain her arms easily without any sign of damage. “Foolish girl,” the man taunts, “Those cuffs can take 1,900 pounds of pressure before failing; you didn’t even have the strength to break free from my men, do you really think you can snap stainless steel?” Furious from the man’s taunt, Shirley grunts and groans angrily as she tries multiple times to snap the handcuffs in half. The chain links clink harmlessly as the cuffs restrain the muscles in her arms with ease. Each exertion becomes weaker as Shirley’s arms slump further and further down her back. “It’s no use,” she realizes, “There’s no way I can break these.”

“I see you’ve given up,” the man observes excitedly, “I will give you another shot at freedom; but that will come later. Right now you’re coming with us.” Removing another set of handcuffs from a jacket pocket, the man kneels down toward the floor and reaches for Shirley’s ankles. Realizing all too well the man’s next intention, Shirley shakes her head defiantly and kicks her legs wildly. Jabbing her feet forward, the man avoids the woman’s flailing legs and subdues them with a strong encircling grip just below her knees. Shirley moans helplessly and watches with horror as the man restrains her ankles with the handcuffs. Clinking together, Shirley tries futilely to pull her legs apart and break them; but the effort is just as wasted as her last one was to break the cuffs restraining her arms; gazing toward one of his men, the leader requests, “Duct tape?” Reaching inside his jacket, the bodyguard tosses him a roll of silver colored, industrial strength tape. Aware of what’s about to happen, all Shirley can do is cooperate. “I’m too tired to fight anymore,” she tells herself, “My only chance at getting out of this is if I cooperate; they might release me later if I do, but right now I can’t escape.” “My guard with have to remove his hand before I duct tape those beautiful lips of yours my girl,” the leader explains, “Are you going to be good and stay quiet?” “Besides,” he continues, “If you scream, one of your teammates will be one of the first to get here; you don’t want her to join you in your predicament do you?” Horrified at putting one of her teammates in peril, she shakes her head in sincere agreement; she mumbles, “I’ll be good.”

Removing his hand, Shirley gasps for some fresh air as the leader peels off and stretches a six inch strip of duct tape directly in front of her mouth. “Silver looks so good against a woman of your skin color,” the main exclaims as he presses the cold adhesive down over her lips. He spends a good amount of time smoothing it down over her mouth until the outline of her lips are clearly showing through the duct tape. “What a sexy look,” the man compliments sinisterly, “You’re the prettiest woman I have ever seen with a duct taped mouth.” Rolling her eyes at the supposed “compliment,” Shirley waits patiently in the body guard’s arms as the leader removes a small white rag from his pocket. Realizing what it is right away. Shirley begins to struggle nervously; but with her head held back firmly against the body guard’s chest, there was no way she could prevent that rag from being pressed over her face. “Don’t be afraid my dear; I’m not so sick as to do something degrading to you while you’re asleep. Just enjoy the nap, besides, you need to regain your strength for your next escape opportunity.” “If it means freedom,” Shirley thinks to herself, “I’ll do anything.”

The man quickly clasps the anaesthetic over her nose and mouth before Shirley can take one last deep breath of untainted air. Pressing the rag down tight over her face, Shirley’s mouth and nose are sealed off from any other air beside that which is saturated with ether. With her lungs burning from having not taken a breath, she reluctantly gives in from the lack of oxygen and with an audible gasp, Shirley begins to breath. The effects aren't noticeable after the first breath; the odor is the only indication that she is breathing something foreign into her body. The stainless steel chain links on the handcuffs clink loudly as she panics and tries to reach her cuffed arms up to remove the rag from her face. Amused by the sight of the muscles in Shirley’s arms quivering under the strain she is placing on them as well as the angry tightness in her face as she grunts angrily and defiantly into the rag, the man taunts, "Don't bother; you already tried to break those cuffs before; spare yourself the pain. Your arms can’t produce that kind of strength." Angered by the accusation of weakness, Shirley screams angrily into the rag as she pours every last ounce of strength in her body into one final effort at breaking the handcuffs. With every unsuccessful attempt however, her muscles burn with exhaustion and demand more oxygen; with the demand comes an accelerating breathing rate. Unable to hold her breath, Shirley’s breathing becomes less intense and erratic and more relaxed and steady. A tingling sensation begins to spread throughout her body as the strength in her straining arms and legs begins to fail her. Shaking her head defiantly, Shirley continues to try and struggle free, but every exertion takes its toll. "There you go" the leader explains, "Feeling weak now, aren't you?" The handcuffs continue to clink, albeit less and less violently as Shirley’s flexing, struggling arms start to relax and sink down against the small of her back again. "Sleep," the leader commands calmly; Shirley offers no resistance as she nods cooperatively and begins to breathe. "I have no other choice," she tells herself as she begins to slip into unconsciousness, "I have to do as he says; it may be the only way he lets me go later on." Stroking Shirley’s hair gently, he assures her, "I'm not going to hurt you, just relax and breath; this will all be over soon." She manages to nod and mumble a weak, "MHMM," just before her body collapses toward the floor, unconscious. The two men support Shirley’s limp body and gently lower it down before stepping back to admire their handiwork: A beautiful volleyball player, the athlete with the perfect physique, handcuffed, tape gagged, and her ankles secured together with the same stainless steel restraints. Part Two to come later...
Last edited by respectfulbondage on Wed Sep 08, 2010 1:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Re: CAPTIVITY

Postby xtc » Wed Sep 08, 2010 1:16 pm

Please! Have pity! Use paragraphs!
As has been remarked in the past such huge, monolithic blocks of text are very difficult to penetrate.
I'm afraid that I must admit that I gave up the attempt well before the end.
Sorry!!!!
xtc
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!

More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729