I first glimpsed her at the Tsar's coming out ball. There were forty beautiful eighteen year old debutantes being introduced, the pride of St. Petersburg, but as soon as I saw her, I had eyes for no other.

She had a face that indeed could launch the thousand ships. Big beautiful brown almond shaped eyes that pierced my heart when she glanced my way. Luscious lips that were designed for kissing. Straight light blond hair, almost white. Draped over her bare shoulders, it was just begging to be pulled back tightly into a braided ponytail in a prophecy of her fate, of things to come. Delicate features with wide cheekbones, and a long, graceful neck, perfect for the adornment of a collar. Her strapless evening gown exposed slender shoulders above a tall and well-proportioned body, with well-toned arms and the hint of incredibly generous breasts.

She was perfect for my needs. I simply had to have her!

As the queue of debutantes approached me on the reception line, each with her father introducing his daughter into society, my eyes kept glancing at her. The girls would all curtsey and offer their gloved hand, and I'd kiss them, smile and say the usual admiratory remarks.

When she finally reached me, I noted this statuesque vision barely came up to my shoulders. Her father, the Count Severin, remarked deferentially, "My Prince, allow me to introduce my only child, Laura. Laura, this is his highness, Prince Peter, fifth in line to the throne."

Though Count Severin was titled, it was common knowledge that he had come on hard times several years ago, due to an insatiable gambling habit. He had wasted away most of his fortune and had driven his wife to suicide in despair. Yet he could not resist the addiction, and many in high society were surprised he had managed to even afford a suitable gown for his daughter to be presented in, as a debutante.

Laura curtseyed wonderfully low, giving me a delicious offering of her soft, tender mounds. I beamed my best and warmest smile. I took her hand, and as I bowed to kiss it, our eyes met. Immediately there was an incredible flash, an unsaid bond between us, as if we both sensed she should belong to me.

I managed to get my share of her dance card, and we whirled around the room as if we had always done so. Each and every time, I felt that same spark. Her eyes gave her away - she felt it also. Thus the evening passed, in a blur.

Just before midnight, I sent a card over to Severin, inviting the widower and his daughter to visit me tomorrow to spend a few days at my estate, fifteen kilometers from the city. I knew declining a Prince was not an option for him, and that he would now regard the evening as a great success for Laura's coming out. I did not need a reply.

The night and morning passed ever so slowly, but it gave me ample time to prepare for what was to come. Sweet anticipation.

Rumors had Count Severin owing millions to a number of unsavory types. So it came as no surprise to anyone when his carriage returned to his townhouse empty, nor when his body was found sliced through with a saber on the road to Moscow, five kilometers from town. There was even some gossip that his daughter was taken away by one of his debtors as booty, as human payment for what the Count owed.

I had planned adeptly, and played the rumor mill with my usual skill. None suspected that I was the masked swordsman that ran Severin through and rode off with his daughter, not even Laura.

Of course Laura had little time to figure anything out. She was frightened, screaming, frozen still during the deed, then quickly blindfolded and ridden away into the thick forest.

I, her captor, that brigand, rode with her draped across my saddle, for what seemed like hours. Though a fiery, willful girl all her youth, she somehow, instinctively, just trembled passively during her abduction. And yet, in her unbelievable predicament, she felt something compelling stir in her very core. My strength was so strangely wonderful to her - she could feel it as I held her down firmly on the wild ride. Laura even enjoyed my scent, which she found alluringly male, even vaguely familiar.

She was still in this dazed revery when we stopped. She heard her captor dismount. There was that wierd tingle again in her when my strong hands lifted her off the saddle and lightly stood her on the ground. She expected me to rape her there and then, so she was shocked at the gentleness in me.

But I wasted no time on words. She had her arms drawn back behind her, then ropes encircling her delicately gloved hands, tieing her wrists together. She was truly my captive.

Without ceremony, she felt the brute cut off her dress with the very saber that took away her father. She was left in those gloves, her french lace panties and bra, her silk stockings, and heels - helpless, vulnerable, awaiting her fate.

I continued to rope her, winding several turns of rope on each ankle, then tieing them wide apart, to a wooden spreader. Laura thought herself so exposed, with her pussy slightly open inside her inexplicably moist panties.

I stopped to admire my handiwork. The pregnant pause served to heighten the sensations for both of us. After a few minutes, I continued, winding rope around each of her delicious thighs.

Laura was appalled at her unusual passivity. For a long time she had not screamed, not uttered a word. Was she being an unwitting accomplice in her own abduction? Had her anger and disappointment at her father gone that far, hatred indifferent at his death? Why was she almost glad? And why so wet and excited in anticipation of her fate?

But had she wanted to scream, it was now too late. I pressed her nostrils shut, and as she gasped, she felt me force something wide into her mouth. It was quickly buckled in the back. As she tried to expel the strange device she bit into it. That was when she realized a part of it went deeper into her, forcing her tongue down. It finally dawned on her, there was a bit in her mouth!

I left her no time to digest this development, but continued her roping, winding several turns tightly around her waist. She noted the rope was rough and scratchy, something she could not feel through her gloves and stockings before. But the roughness became the least of her problems when I ran the rope down her belly, split her pussy lips and tightly drew it up her ass crack to her waist.

Laura would have yelped, but what left her bitted mouth was a strangely indeterminate moan.

Those strong hands made her kneel, untied her wrists, only to tie her at the elbows, then retie her wrists behind her, and then somehow to the stick spreading her legs. Laura felt herself being drawn upwards until she was swinging off the ground in an uncomfortable backward arc, swaying, with her head hanging down.

To add to her humiliation, I released her generous breasts from her bra, and cut away her sopping wet panties, letting the rough crotch ropes do their demonic work on her even better. Then I removed her blindfold, knowing all she could see was the trunk of a tree, with forest everywhere.

Finally, I stood where she would see only the boots of her upside down, masked tormentor and calmly stated, "I will ask only once. Will you agree to become my unconditional slave, my property, forever?"

Laura was shocked, in extreme discomfort, hanging helplessly. She said nothing.

"I am leaving you here. I may be back to ask you again. Then again I may not."

Laura could hear the clip-clop of his horse as her captor left. How she envied that horse for its comparative freedom! Then only the sounds of the forest remained.

For the next fourteen hours, I came back regularly, and asked the same question, "Will you agree to become my unconditional slave, my property, forever?"

Each time I met with silence until eventually, after fifteen hours, exhausted, famished, half delirious, she made it clear to me with her whimpers and movements that she would be mine.

Go to Day 3.


© SirJeff, March 2004