Kidnapped Cop (M/F)

[AlexUSA3]

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Kidnapped Cop (M/F)
Saturday, August 03, 2024

"I am sorry, Mr. Morrison, but you were measured as doing 82 in a 50 zone during construction," I say to a man, "Please, exit the vehicle slowly. You are under arrest per Minnesota law."
"F-cking power tripping c-nt of a cop. Teeny boppers like you takin' a man's job to inflate your worthless little b-tch egos," he snaps at me in fury as if I'm framing him of the crime.
"Sir, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you have any other questions to ask me before you go in the cruiser?"
"Yeah, what the f-ck's your name so I can paste you all over my Facebook," he is spitting mad.
"I'm Officer Felice Pryce," there's only calm in my voice, "and remember there's a body camera to record my every action throughout the day, including what you just said," and shut the door.
"Man, that guy's a real b-tch," a coworker says behind me, and I nod my head in agreement.

The fun's only getting started. Trust me, my sweet audience.

"Suspect has exited the vehicle and is now on foot. I'm at the intersection of Burnsville and 3rd," my next message calls out, exiting the police car to go run after this one, "He's running through a yard towards 4th." There's no trouble keeping up on the basis of stamina. My friends trained me well, and the prison's gym routines already helped me in some regards. Shorter means slower, but I'm strong and not about to let up my pursuit unless it turns into a marathon. "Stop, police!" is the usual command when the man's cornered by his bad decision, and soon he's in cuffs and in a cruiser while the rest of us drink water as it is extremely hot outside. There's not a cloud in the sky to tease potential rain. Maybe God laughs—in a Fatherly way—at the weather forecasters.

It has been an exhausting day for me, a day on the beat. Stepping into my home and collapsing on my bed without turning on the lights, eating, or doing much else is a great way to end a long day. When you're a police officer, days come that just exhaust you—emotionally and physically. You completely feel like you have been leeched of all your energy, and your mind will be foggy or groggy. That's when you're finding yourself walking into the apartment like Dr. Frankenstein has just reanimated your dead body. It's not a pleasant feeling, but it's a feeling.

Exhausting does not mean triggering or traumatizing. It can be a day like this one, where there is a nonstop barrage of belligerent individuals, the kind who know everything and insist they're still correct even after you've provided concrete, indisputable evidence to the contrary. The radar said you were doing 96 miles-per-hour in an active construction zone that's set at 50 miles-per-hour. I cannot change the numbers but will gladly apologize if you can prove the detector is broken. A day becomes physically exhausting when you pull over said person, and they decide to lead three officers on a chase that includes climbing chain link fencing and avoiding a snarling dog. Worse, it was a horribly hot day on which the thermometer reached 99. Fahrenheit, my lovelies, though my skin was still burning in the heat; at least 120 ounces of water was consumed today. Yes, that chase I just narrated for you wasn't my only one of the day. People are batsh-t crazy at times in the Minneapolis metropolitan area. I'm never smiling when I'm asked to do a sting with one of the various Twin Cities police forces. Please let me stay in my own jurisdiction, Chief.

Making the heat worse is my uniform: all black with a white shirt. A black scrunchie keeps my hair in a ponytail. A white button-down short-sleeve shirt is professional, crisp, and clean. My black pants, socks, and combat boots are police standard here. Being the smallest officer on the force still makes me part of a team that works together to do its duty, and believe me it's hard to maintain decorum when facing people like that. Somehow, I succeed each time, and each time I do a little better than the previous time. It's a good sign, one of maturation.

"GMMMMM!" What the hell?! Someone is grabbing me, and he means business. He clamps a hand over my mouth, and he's strong enough to make me helpless against his grip. "NO! NO!" I shriek when I get the chance, "NOOOOOO!" but he stuffs a giant sponge in my mouth. It's one of those huge yellow sponges that squishes down to a tight ball when you squeeze it. He jams it all into my unwilling jowls, stuffing it full, and he pushes my face into my pillow—my soft, pink pillow. A source of comfort is now being used to prevent me from pushing out the stuffing.

"HMMMMMP!" the sound of tape unwinding from the roll fills the room. He sits on me, taking absolute advantage of my exhaustion, and begins wrapping it around my wrists. That texture and sound is different, though. I shudder a little and twist my head to see the heavy black material; it's Gorilla tape and not duct tape. My wrists are locked together behind my back, and he winds the material with unforgiving strictness. Two, three, four, five, six, seven. He does not want me to escape by any means, and he goes a couple of inches up my arm for a more effective restraint.

"All right, time to make sure you remain quiet, officer," he says in a sinister tone. Why would he be doing this? He wants my body—my virginity—doesn't he? That or I arrested him some time in the past and don't remember him and am now a victim of vengeance. He puts the black tape to my lips and wraps it around my head, lifting my hair so it's not caught. It smells, and it sticks all too well. He makes sure that it is tight, squeezing my cheeks around the sponge and covering my face from my nose down to my chin. Two, three, four, five. A test of the gag, "HNNNN!" finds me completely quelled by the sponge and the overkill adhesive. Why me though?

SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! the tape unwinds from the roll, and sticks it to my bare arms below my elbows. SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SNAP! It wraps my arms together tightly so that I feel my elbows literally touch. "NKKK!" I gutturally groan as it's all that's left for actual working syllables. SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! the tape goes around my ankles now. SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SNAP! That sound is so dark. SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! around my thighs. SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SNAP! I wince every time the sounds fill my ears, but there is no way to stop it. Each time he repeats the motions, my stomach sinks a little further.

SMACK! SMACK! He spanks me for his own amusement. This remorseless creature is a cowardly thing. SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! I struggle on my black comforter while the tape wraps my legs below my kneecaps. SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SNAP! He's slowly immobilizing me. Turning around brings me face to face with a man with no beard and a confident look on his face. He's fully cognizant and certainly targeted me. No guy ever wants the 62 inch wavy-haired brunette so badly he'd kidnap her. Squealing gives a sense of control in chaos. SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! He wraps my thighs so that the tape is right below my butt. SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SNAP! If he is taking me to the cleaners, it's going to be from behind.

"NNKKK!" I groan and try to sit up, which is unfortunately just what he wanted me to do.
"Hold still!" he orders me and begins unbuttoning my shirt, my pristine white shirt!
"NNKKK!" my protests are useless when my kidnapper is acting like he needs hearing aids.
"Nice set," he helps himself to my breasts, squeezing them over the white sports bra.
"GNNNN!" bullets of sweat pour off me now to soak my body and clothing even more.
"Officer," he looks me in the eyes as if studying me, "People will pay a lot for a piece of you."
"HNNKKK?!" my pupils dilate in total terror—he's going to sell me into slavery!?
"I'm kidding," he laughs, overjoyed at having made my blood completely congeal by his words, "But," he bares my breasts with a grin, "This really is a nice set of tits you have here."
"GNNNN!" I stamp my feet on the floor, desperately looking left and right for an escape route.

SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! He wraps more tape around me, this time below my boobs with an eye for objectification. SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SNAP! He sticks it above my boobs. SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SNAP! Then, last of all, he tapes my waist. SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SNAP! My arms are absolute clubs now, completely useless and rigidly pinned by the Gorilla tape. "NNNNKKKKK!"

He pushes me onto the bed, my inertia forcing me to roll backwards. He takes my flailing feet in his hands. SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! He takes the tape and wraps it around my combat boots. SHRNK! SHRNK! SHRNK! SNAP! Even wiggling my feet is impossible. Standing up and looking into his face despite him being nearly a foot taller than me doesn't make him flinch, and even taking an extremely confident hop backwards and stretching myself to my full 5'2" doesn't help in the slightest. I may be small but am not a quitter, having been raised to know when to surrender gracefully and when to keep struggling mightily.

"You're pretty," he smiles at me and grabs my ponytail to jerk my head so I'm looking up at him.
"NNNNKKKKKK!" I howl into the gag, and he steals a big, passionate kiss of my gagged lips.
"I'm going to take a look around, but first," he says ominously and pushes me back on the bed.
"GNNN!" I wail, the bed bouncing under my weight as the black comforter becomes disheveled.
"I need to make sure you won't go anywhere without permission," and he grabs the tape again.
"GNNN NNNN!" I roll my eyes as he rolls me onto my stomach, sweat dripping off me now.

The footboard is part of a bed, not a plaything. He makes it a plaything, putting my boots flush against the wood, my toes between the wood and the bedding. SHRRRRNNNKKKKK! My instinct is to wince now while he wraps the tape. SHRNK! SHRNK! He crosses tape around my ankles, SHRNK! SHRNK! around two slats, SHRNK! SHRNK! between the slats, SHRNK! SHRNK! and between my ankles. He smiles and pulls on my braid. SMACK! SMACK! Reduced to a spanking toy, I turn and fiercely gaze at him, but he simply chuckles, nods his head in acknowledgment of my innermost desires, fondles my breasts, and walks away. It's so fast that no one would be able to process it.

"GNNNNNNN!" I call out as my assailant walks away from me.
"I'll be back to take what I want after I've taken what I want," he says ominously.
"Nnkkk!" my muted cries are as loud as possible but can't be heard on the other side of the room.

The tape wraps me securely. The sponge is uncomfortable, having been squished so tightly to fit in my mouth. Now it's trying to expand and pushing against all the sides of my mouth. I'm a bit small for such a big sponge and am likely leaving a bite mark in it. Pushing my tongue does not work either. My feet are fastened to the footboard with the black tape holding me firmly. There is no escaping this until he wills that. My arms are tightly bound, and the tape yanks on my arms when I pulse my muscles. I can move but can't move my limbs. "NNNNKKKKK!"

Fighting is a matter of survival, an officer's true duty in this kind of scenario. There's no way out though. Struggling only brings the strain of my muscles against the adhesive that wraps me up so tightly. My legs are rigid, and I can only effectively flex my hips, knees, and neck. All other muscles are wasted in the effort, and droplets of sweat are forming and flowing off my forehead and, embarrassingly, my exposed breasts. My body is scrunched up like a caterpillar's now.

"Ohhhh, officer! I'm back," my captor returns with a smug look on his face.
"GNNNKKKKK!" there's little to do but squirm and shake my head as he removes his belt and unbuttons his shorts, intimating that soon we will know each other better than I ever expected.
"Don't worry," he practically taunts me, "I'm just taking what I want and leaving you alone."
"UNNNNNN!" that's just my fear, what you're planning on taking from me.
"You're going to enjoy this a lot, officer," he lies to me now, removing my own belt.
"NNNNKKKK!" a shake of my defies his actions, but he pulls my pants and panties down.
"Now, let's have fun," he says to me, but the continuous rivers of bullets flow off my body.

Since my feet are affixed to the footboard, he bends my knees and hips to bring me closer. With a whimper, my dignity is crushed, and my womanhood is shattered. Even juvenile detention had a stronger sense of humanity and did better to protect. There I had my voice even while trapped inside those four walls. At the present, a sponge fills my mouth so tightly that it hurts. The tape is wrapped like black pythons seeking to crush every bone in my body,

"NNNNKKKK!" I resist the motion, but with a rude SMACK! SMACK! he orders me to submit to his desires. Thoughts begin racing through my head. What if a child comes from this? What if he decides to keep me forever as his personal plaything—likely keeping me bound and gagged in his basement perpetually? So far, he's unpredictable; he might snuff me! My life is in the balance, and presently he has me quelled and half mummified with a roll of Gorilla tape.

"You're awfully loud," he says, mocking my relatively quiet, yet determined, struggle.
"NNNKK!" I wail when he rolls me over, and two strips of tape seal my nose just enough to add fire to the mixture—the burning of my lungs—not smothered but filtered—"kkkkk!"
"Much better. Keep fighting," and he unironically blindfolds me with a white bandana.
"kkkkkkkkkk," in my muted condition, finding only tiny gasps of air through the tape that almost completely seals my airways is hard while he ties the knot without any care for me, "kkkkk."
"You should take up kickboxing. You have the figure for it," SMACK! SMACK!
"Kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk," thank you for the compliment, you absolute genius, savage, wild beast!

When you're in prison, the guards have duties to protect you, the inmate, from yourself, all your fellow inmates, and the employees, and likewise they protect everyone else from you, etc. Here is a fine example of being defenseless. I'm possibly mothering some psychopath's child after one of the toughest days of my 4 years on the beat as a police officer, and the Mississippi, 20 minutes away by car, better watch out because the sweat is flowing off all parts of my body like a river. I feel it especially dripping off my nipples and nose, points that stick out from their surroundings.

I was blessed to keep my virginity in prison. Several of my fellow inmates weren't so lucky, and, in stereotypical objectification, the only brunette in that group also had the biggest boobs of all; the rest were blondes. It's completely disgusting that those things happened to my friends, and unfortunately my luck has run out now. I'm wrapped in this confounded Gorilla tape so tightly, and now I'm being partially smothered by it too.

"Kkkkkkkk," I sputter through the sponge, the tape wrapped around my head, and the tape on my nose. Reduced to this animal's plaything, I'm utterly helpless. From the day my mother died, my father had no one else left but me, and soon he will be bereaved of me as well. I'm certain of this dark reality. Oh, but how much longer can I maintain this façade? "Kkkkkkkk!" What follows is something that cannot be put into my words. He pushes the right spot, and I writhe just for him. This can't be hidden any longer. Indeed, my virginity is being lost—to the man that I love so much to say "I do" only the night before this.

Yes, we were married only yesterday, and our honeymoon starts a little late, Monday. We agreed to explore this fantasy of mine. The bed is my old childhood bed, now the guest bed, and we had to work very hard to save something so intimate for a moment like this. The suffocation truly is arousing, as was his utter domination of me. The press of the sponge is deeply satisfying. We're both virgins in truth, which makes the sensations which I won't describe so much better. It's new to me, and there aren't words to describe it that won't trivialize what took 4 years of dating and 6 months of engagement to make so meaningful to both of us. Colin Jones, I love you.

"Nnnnnn," I sigh and perhaps perform a little when he removes the tape from my nose. It's been so good, even better than either of us could have imagined. My first release, both of my personal sexual tension and my physical bonds, couldn't be more perfect. Colin goes slowly and uses two or three different solvents to make sure my release from the tight hold of the tape is as painless as possible. The only thing better would have been to be gagged with my own socks, but that could not be done because then my boots couldn't have been taped so well. SMACK! SMACK! I squeal a little and lie still, motioning for him to leave me be after my arms are freed in a need to bask in afterglow—remaining gagged and blindfolded with my legs encased like jumbo sausages and tethered to the footboard. What has transpired over the last 45 minutes?

Wasn't I sneaky with that build up? Yes, a brutal CNC roleplay did bring excitement and a sense of reclamation. Colin went out, giving me a break to prepare myself mentally for making a true marital promise, and waited a few minutes before returning to love me. We had prepared things so perfectly. To consummate marriage like that was better than either of us expected.

The shirt is old and has a hole in the armpit, worn figuring it would be thrown away afterwards regardless of what the tape did to it. Now, I lie motionless, savoring all the sensations that have overwhelmed me. Part of me wishes he'd left me bound. Part desires release. Part even hopes he returns to tie me with parachute cords. In case you're wondering, Colin's knowledge comes from me, having shared my knowledge and love of bondage and TUGs with my husband.

"Nnnnnnnnn!" I put my arms together behind my back almost instinctively.
"Felice," Colin removes my blindfold, "Are you saying you want to spend more time tied up?"
"Nnnnnkkkk!" comes with a forced blush, to seem sweet and innocent, and a nod of my head.
"Really? You're still sweating like a glass of ice water," he teases me in a husky voice
"Nnnnnnnnn!" I don't say much! A mischievous roll of the eyes dares him to do his will.
"Another time, Felice, another time. You've seemingly done it all, haven't you?" he asks me.
"Gnnnnnnn!" I'm blushing for real now, but he's cutting the Gorilla tape to free me from its grip.
SMACK! SMACK! he does that for my personal pleasure, and I squeal for his.
"Nnnkkk!" my inability to articulate is arousing, but I start unwinding the gag and use a battery of solvents to get the vicious glue off my face and remove the sponge, "I love you."
"Shall we do it the classic way, the woman on her back?" he asks me to my absolute delight.
"Colin Jones," I say his name with deep, heartfelt affection, and roll over, "Yes, let's."

Soon, I'm sitting while Colin sets an Olive Garden bag on the dining table before my eyes. It's a public fact that I love a variety of cuisines, but Italian seems perfect for a romantic couple who'd only an hour before consummated their marriage. Tears form because often a girl still misses her mother and wishes they could hug again. I remember sitting there in the hospital with her hand in my hand, holding it while begging God—a God in whom I then ironically didn't believe—to spare her life and watching the cancer sap the remaining life from her until she flatlined. Today is the day I am finally living the life she wished for me: "A husband who knows to adventure, to be soft, to be strong, and watches so he can memorize all your favorite things, like your father."

Of course, Mom never imagined her daughter would be so jealous and protective of a reputation of being one of the most popular girls at school by kidnapping her archrival, spending a year in juvenile detention—leaving her father totally bereaved—and coming home to a Credit River that no longer saw her as a human being. She never imagined I'd convert to Roman Catholicism and meet the love of my life either. I'm sure she imagined a million unique future scenarios: in all of them I was happy. That's what mothers do.

"Colin, today, I discovered what it really means when a man and a woman love each other."
"I'm glad to hear that, Felice, because who'd have imagined I'd find so much happiness with a woman 4 years my senior," he says, loving to tease me about that little fact.
"After supper, let's break out the parachute cord," I tease him back and squeeze his cheek.

And that, my lovelies, is where this story comes to its conclusion.

Kiss kiss

[Kinky_boi]

Amazing story
Had me in the first half

[Jenny_S]

I hope we'll hear more about Felice.

[AlexUSA3]

Amazing story
Had me in the first half

That was the goal!

I hope we'll hear more about Felice.

If you go this page: https://www.tugstories.blog/viewtopic.php?t=22170 You will find other narrations by Felice Pryce, both her own personal stories and in the Game Night series, of which every story involves her in some way even when she's not the narrator. The story The Kidnapper is also all about Felice.

[Ropesworn]

Wow, I did not expect that. Love the Twist, so wholesome and so much love