Stealing Emma

**This was originally a bondage story, but I realized that I don't know anything about BDSM, so I retooled it as a non-consent story. The original version is called "Stealing Emma" and is in the BDSM category. Enjoy!**

I had gotten pretty good at sneaking, always tiptoeing around my roommate and his ridiculous sleeping schedule. By this time, junior year, I had become a pro. It also helped that it was the weekend of the Gran Prix, the yearly go kart race, and a heavy drinking weekend. By 5am, almost everyone had taken the courtesy of knocking themselves out. Getting into the girls' dorm had scared me though. As much as the odds were in my favor, I was totally exposed while picking the outdated lock with a credit card. But, I had practiced breaking into a guys' dorm, which would have been a lot easier to explain.

Anyway, I got through OK, and now I was carefully walking down the deserted hall towards room 211. Emma's room. She never locked her door; she had told me how the girls on her floor felt so close and trusted each other. The hallway was deathly quiet at 3am, and eerily dark, with only a dim light every five yards or so. I pondered at all the circumstances and luck that had gotten me through this far. But still I was nervous, not cocky. Maybe the only thing driving me forward was the deep carnal need I had for this girl.

Her door was mercifully quiet as I eased it open and slipped in. By the dim light of a desk lamp, I saw her roommate in bed, with her back to the room and curled up with the wastebasket. That was a good sign, for me at least. Emma hadn't made it to bed, and I found her sprawled out on their futon. Her short red hair was beautiful, despite the night it had been through. Apparently, she had enough energy when she had gotten home to take off her underwear, and then I imagine her dress had to work as pajamas when she passed out. It was a cocktail-like dress, and it wasn't covering anything at the moment. The sight was tempting. Part of me wanted to take her right there, ravish her and damn the consequences. But another part of me had a plan.

I gently adjusted her dress and made it decent, at least by college standards. Emma didn't respond at all until I scooped her up. At this, she stirred and squirmed in my arms, although she didn't open her eyes or speak more than an incoherent whine. I panicked slightly, but really the situation wasn't serious. She simply needed to be less conscious. I spoke to her in a calming voice as I set her back down. I pulled Plan B out of my pocket.

Being an undergraduate TA had given me access to diethyl ether, which was used as anesthesia a long time ago. But that's another story. Suffice to say I had thought this out beforehand, two months beforehand. I produced a rag and soaked it in ether, which I slapped over her face. By reflex, she tried to escape the reeking, suffocating rag. But I held her head fast, and she inhaled a good deal of vapor in the process of her struggle. Then she went to sleep. I counted One, Two, Three, and pulled it away. No need to kill her. I looked up, and her roommate was still catatonic. How cooperative of her, I thought. Now I picked Emma up again, collected the kidnapping evidence, and closed the door behind me.

She was slight and on the short side, 5'2" and maybe 110 pounds. That was good because I had to carry her across campus. I kept a sharp, paranoid eye out, but the streets were deserted. Once I got a block away from the dorm, I breathed easier. Now, no one would be able to tell if I was stealing a girl from one dorm or simply taking her to another. Hell, a passerby would probably think I was a Good Samaritan. And on top of that, on a college campus this was just another Saturday night. I mentally remarked on my luck again as I carried this comatose girl down the street for anyone to see.

Shortly, we arrived at Wendell Hall, the chemistry building. And of course, the academic part of campus was deserted at this hour. With the chance of being seen dropping close to zero, I threw Emma over my shoulder into a more practical fireman's carry. She hung over me limp as a rag doll. With my handy TA keys, I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and locked it back. With poor Emma still hanging over my shoulder, I descended into the basement, and quietly walked past several empty classrooms, a janitor's closet, lab storage, the boiler room, and finally arrived at the fallout shelter. For more than fifty years, no one had taken interest in this quaint Cold War relic, except for yours truly. I opened the door -- don't ask me why this was included in the keys that a lackey TA needs -- and locked us inside.

Once again, my luck was impeccable. Back in 1955 when Wendell was built, everyone was expecting to be hunkering down in here any day with Soviet bombs falling on their heads. Now it was just a curiosity, or a crucial asset in my case.

I dropped Emma into a heavy wooden chair in the middle of the room. She moaned and rolled her head, trying to get her bearings. I quickly went over to the table where I had spread out my materials and grabbed zip ties. Did I mention that I thought this out beforehand? I tied Emma's legs to the chair legs, which spread them and left her very exposed. After imposing some serious self-control, I zip tied her wrists together, and then to the back of the chair. She opened her eyes and smiled at me, still drunk with alcohol and ether. I went back to the table and returned with a ball gag. She gave it a quizzical look. With morbid humor, I said "Aaaaahhhhh," like I was a dentist, and she got the message. She opened her mouth and I cinched the strap behind her head.

She was still in a serious daze, not comprehending anything. I needed her sober for what I had in mind for her, so I retreated into the cupboard while she slept it off. It was like a walk in closet, full of petrified foodstuffs for the would-be apocalypse. I set a timer for 2 hours and spread out to do some homework, believe it or not. I was getting serious blue balls, but my rational side prevailed. A wide grin formed on my face when the timer went off.

I stepped out and regarded Emma. She was beginning to catch up with events, and there was a sheen of sweat on her soft pale skin. Her expression was fearful, arousingly fearful, and her pretty green eyes widened when she saw me. I noticed her petite A cups, hardly making a ripple in the sensuous fabric of her dress. They were perfect little mounds, and looked just right on her small frame. And I bet they would fit perfectly into the palms of my hands.

I walked up, betraying no emotions, and sat in a chair across from her. She was quivering, I loved it. I put on a soft smile and said, "Hi Emma." She began to cry. I spoke in a cajoling tone, absolutely relishing the moment. "Emma, Emma, there's no need to worry. So long as you do what I say while you're here, everything will be fine" Another wave of panic hit her, and she almost fell out of the chair. I paused, then went on in the same voice, "You will find I am quite fair. All you must do is obey me and do what I ask of you. Your choices will determine what happens to you. If you are obedient, this will be much easier for you." I leaned forward and gently brushed the tip of my nose against hers, whispering, "but above all else, I will have my way."

At this point, it was time to begin, so my tone hardened. "Stop crying," I barked. She stifled her sobs, and I went on. "This is about obedience and reward, and since I like you, we're going to start with reward." I moved behind her, but something made me pause for a brief, cruel moment.

I really did like her. We had met in class right at the beginning of freshman year. We were both nerds, and we had a great time studying, making fun of our profs during lecture, and the like. I always thought she was hot as hell, and I gave myself enough credit to realize she was in my league too. We would have been a perfect pair. But she had a peon boyfriend. He had been hanging around since the end of high school, and anyone could see they weren't a good fit, for a million reasons. It was a one way relationship. She knew everything about him, Trent was the fucker's name, and constantly tried to please him. Meanwhile, he focused on smoking pot and dabbling with other girls. It killed me to see it going on day after day

Still, she had a fierce devotion to him that was a total mystery. But after two months of set up, this was my time. I didn't care if my method was twisted or immoral, and after so much ethical dilemma, the lines were blurred and I couldn't even tell anymore. I didn't know if I was a rapist; I definitely toed the line. But over everything, I held on to that singular purpose; I was going to claim this girl, and save her from her bleak reality. I was going to make her see the truth and see that it should be us together.

I snapped out of my reverie, feeling the drive to do this. I reached around her and gently pressed my fingers into her slit. She was wet, and I became hard instantly. She bore down on my fingers with her pelvis ever so slightly, betraying herself. "See?" I cooed, "We're going to have a good time." She began sobbing again, but she never tried to draw away from my touch. I explored her with excruciating slowness, ever so gradually running up and down between her lips, and coming to focus on her clit. I circled it, feeling it swell. Now she began to buck gently, arching her back. Soon she was panting, writhing against the restraints and grinding against my hand. Her breasts heaved with the approaching climax. "Not so fast, dear Emma." I pulled my hand away. She gave a confused moan and slumped back into the chair, her pelvis still flexing, looking for friction

I imagine a lot of conflicting guilt and fear and lust was working in her mind right now. I didn't help that I, honestly, am an attractive guy, athletic, muscular, and pretty well-endowed as she would find out. Plus, I was a charmer. All our friends, and both of us, could see that we were made for each other. But there was this bizarre, deep connection with her douchebag boyfriend. But regardless of what was going on in her psyche, I continued.

"Now comes the obedience, don't disappoint me Emma." I cut her legs free, and cut her wrist binding from the chair, taking care to keep the knife out of her sight. And as soon as she was free, she ran for the door, hands bound, ball gag and all.

Feeling completely in control, I ran after her and shoved her violently into the door before she could reach it herself. She crumpled to the ground, a total mess of sobs and whimpers. Which kind of got me excited.

"It's locked you dumb bitch! There's no one out there to hear you either." I grabbed her bound wrists and hauled her over to the stockades, which I had kindly invited the historical society to store down here. Another long story. Two months of planning, remember. I locked the stockades with a straight pin, trapping her head, but her hands were left bound at the small of her back. "You have now chosen the harder of two paths," I stated plainly. She was a confused, sobbing mess. I backhanded her, not too hard, and she quieted down.

I took off my pants and my erection sprang free, fully hard. Her lovely green eyes regarded it. "If you bite me, I will cut your nipples off," I said in a deadpan tone. I almost cringed at my strange interjection here, but this was the best threat I could think of. It seemed to work, she nodded assent. Wonderful, that ought to protect my piece. I removed her gag, and she immediately began to plead, "Colin, please don't, I --" too late.

I stepped forward and entered her mouth. Her lips were soft at first, her tongue felt wonderful. She didn't struggle in the stocks, but she did everything she could to keep her mouth from touching me. I called her out on the passive resistance act, "Obedience, Emma! The quality of this blowjob will affect your immediate future." That must have put some fear back in her. She closed her mouth around it, and I did the rest. I started with shallow thrusts, enjoying the feel of her tongue and her lips. I leveraged myself against the stockade and started really going at it. As I penetrated deeper, she began to gag -- but she had tried to run. I let her worry about gagging, and I focused on how her throat muscles were massaging my dick. This was what I had lusted after all along. I drank in the sight of my cock fucking her sweet, innocent-looking face. Those green eyes were locked on mine, surprisingly. That and the sound of her gags got me going so bad. But when I felt my orgasm building, I pulled out. It couldn't be over that easily.

My dick was still at her lips, and I commanded, "Lick me." She obeyed, proving that she was at least somewhat compliant, rather than just passive. Her pink tongue flicked out and caressed my head. I had to focus so hard on staying alert while I hovered on the edge of coming. I tried some positive reinforcement, in between appreciative moans. "You see Emma? This isn't the end of the world. We're getting along great. I'd like to pleasure you in return, if you would only be more like this." I inched forward, and she grabbed my head with her lips, using her tongue on the underside of my shaft. It felt amazing, and I was desperate for relief. "Hold on, dear Emma." With that, I rammed my entire length into her throat until her nose touched my abdomen. She tried to yelp, which sent intense vibrations over my cock. That, plus the sensation of being sheathed in her throat sent me over the edge.

I pulled back before exploding, so that I completely emptied myself into her mouth. Emma was in total shock, possibly over the sheer volume of cum. I continued fucking her face until I was completely spent.

"Swallow."

She swallowed after a split-second hesitation, and I continued, "Clean me up." To my surprise, she complied again. She licked the cum off of me and took me in her mouth again before swallowing the rest of the mess. Then she looked up, as if to ask for an evaluation. "You did well Emma, I would like to reward you now."

Ungagged, she tried to plead again. "Please, just let me go. I swear I won't tell a soul about --"

"No, you won't tell a soul, and no, I'm not done with you either."

"Please, I just want to go home." She broke down once more, poor girl. But it was in vain. I replaced the ball gag, and she knew better than to fight it. Moving behind Emma, I hiked up her dress and stuffed a corner of it into her wrist bonds. Her gorgeous ass was fully exposed. I decided to blindfold her; maybe it would remove her from the grim surroundings. With that done, I returned to her lovely behind.

She had a perfect heart-shaped ass and tone legs. Being bent over in the stockades only made it more enticing. It was raw sexuality. Everything was firm, and her pussy was pristine. Shaved, wet, tight, I could be content just beating myself off to that sight. Well, not really.

I traced circles around her ass cheeks with both hands, squeezing lightly. No response from her. I had thought we were getting somewhere, but I guess she thought that blowjob was going to be a get-out-of-jail-free card. Ah, what a shame.

But it's about perseverance, right? I planted a kiss on one cheek and began lightly nipping her all over that gorgeous butt. Meanwhile, my hands went down to the bottom of her thighs and began traveling up the inside toward her crotch. She betrayed herself again, her legs spreading slightly to let me in. Instead my hands stopped at the 1 yard line, so to speak, but my tongue darted out and dove into her slit. Emma lost it again, her hips buckled, trying to get more contact with my face.

I couldn't do much from behind her like this, but now that I had her, I unlocked the stockades and threw her down on the floor. She landed on her butt, and her bound hands somehow broke her fall. Quite graceful, really. I practically dove on top of her, pinning her down even though I probably didn't need to.

I pushed her thighs apart before she could do it herself, and my mouth latched on to her mound. I plunged my tongue into her vagina and tasted her musk. It had that metallic, strangely pleasing taste. She moaned and whimpered while I fucked her with my tongue. I moved up to her clitoris, flicking it back and forth. She screamed against the gag. I was actually surprised by the intensity of her reaction, and the thought floated across my mind that her scumbag boyfriend had probably never given her anything like this before. I kept it up until she orgasmed. It shook her whole body, and she screamed like a mad woman. I rubbed her pussy until it ran its full course and she collapsed flat onto the floor, completely exhausted.

I scooped her up from her stupor, for a second time tonight, and carried her over to the bed. If you're wondering how I got a bed down here, the answer is, very discretely. Again, two months. It was essentially a queen mattress on three cot frames, but it was good enough. I set Emma down gently, and I figured now was a good time to cut her wrists free. She didn't say anything in response to being unbound. I retrieved my pants and laid down beside her while she tried to recover. She still had her dress on, sans underwear, and her body was warm and soft. She cuddled up to me, surprisingly, and her small frame fit perfectly into mine. I draped one arm over her slim waist and pulled a blanket over us. My hand was dangling dangerously close to her crotch, and my body was telling me to move on to the main event. But the plan was to give her a chance to sort this out, and the plan won out again. In the meantime, I was enjoying lying next to the girl of my dreams, feeling her body against mine.

We dozed for maybe an hour, which was heaven for me and I could have stayed there much longer. But Emma must have started coming down off her orgasm-endorphin high. She shuffled away from me and pulled the hem of her dress down. I thought she would confront me, but instead she just lie there, waiting for -- I don't know what.

For the moment, I decided to put aside all the aggressiveness and dominance. I said in the softest voice I had, "You know, I had a crush on you from the day I met you. And I'm pretty sure it only took me a few weeks to fall in love with you." I waited, but no response. Emma didn't even breathe. "It kills me every time I see Trent put his hands on you." That didn't needle her into talking either. "Emma, I didn't do all of this because I wanted to fuck you." My voice grew more plaintive as I went on, "I did it because you're wasting your time, wasting the best years of your life, with a loser. And I love you and I can't watch it anymore. This is the only way I know how to get through to you."

She tried to get up off the bed. Not really to escape but to spite me. My anger got the better of me. I grabbed her wrist and yanked her down. This was supposed to be the moment when she professed her love for me and threw herself into my arms. Instantly, I realized how ridiculous that was. But what the fuck was I going to do now? I still didn't understand the whole situation. There was something crucial I didn't know about her and Trent.

"I want answers! None of it makes sense. And if you can't open up to me, then who? I love you; I could give you everything, but you have to lose that fucker! What is it about him? What!"

She stared up at me for a long time. It could have been years for all I knew. Adding to that sensation was the hypnotic effect of her fathomless green eyes. For the first time, I noticed that there was no light in them. Even at the deepest core, there was not a single glint of emotion, be it happy or sad. Finally, she said, "Trent loves me." Bullshit. I just stared back, waiting for more. She took a deep, shaky breath and let it out. "No one else in the world cares. Not my parents, not my so called friends, not even you. You're all liars, you're all just fucking with my head. I'm not worth anything to anyone, Trent is all I have."