Groomed, Trapped, Enslaved. The Complete Story. Read online

  Groomed, Trapped, Enslaved.

  (The Complete Story)

  AMELIA STARK

  © Copyright Amelia Stark 2014-2015

  The right of Amelia Stark to be identified as the author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  This book is licenced for your personal enjoyment only. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention. All fictional characters are either 18 years of age or older and are consenting adults.

  Groomed, Trapped, Enslaved. (The Complete Story.)

  By Amelia Stark

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2014-2015 Amelia Stark

  Edited 13-06-2015

  This novel was originally released in 3 parts and has now been completely re-edited and enhanced to provide the complete story in one book ~ A. Stark.

  Chapter 1

  I’m running across a lush green meadow and my breath is coming in short sharp gasps. I’m heading toward the safety of some tall, dense undergrowth, just the other side of a three rail wooden fence, about 100 yards away.

  The sun is hot on my naked body and casts a short shadow, which races across the ground in front of me. Tiny rivulets of salty sweat drip onto my hot, jutting breasts, which bounce with every tired, shuddering stride I take.

  I risk a quick look over my shoulder, only to see that both men are catching up and still waving their sticks in the air, threateningly. I almost fall, when my foot sinks into a pot-hole, but I manage to stumble along, to what I hope will turn out to be the protection of some thick vegetation.

  I finally reach the fence and my heart sinks, because it’s been reinforced with wire netting, which I couldn’t see from a distance.

  Fuck! I’m going to have to climb over, rather than squirm through the barrier. I jump up to grab the top rail, which is about 5 feet high, and put a foot on the lower bar to hoist myself up.

  My plan is to rest my stomach on the top, and lift my leg over, so I can jump down the other side. I manage to get my tummy onto the rough wooden bar, scratching my skin, and then I freeze…

  “Stay where you are!” one of the men commands.

  He’s within 6 feet of grabbing me, when it suddenly dawns on me that if I raise my leg, I’ll provide the men with a perfect view of my splayed pussy. I’m bent forward over the bar, so can look back between the bars to glimpse my pursuers. I just catch sight of one of their canes moving in a wide ark toward my raised buttocks. THWATT!

  “Fuckkkkkkkkkkk!” I scream, when a line of white hot fire blazes across the tender skin of my taught buttocks. “Nooooooooooo!” I cry, as my distress increases and my tears begin to mingle with the droplets of sweat dripping from my face.

  I look down and see a thick patch of nettles covering my landing spot. The sight of the stingers, puts me off falling forward, where I’m bound to suffer even more pain than I’m experiencing on the fence. Both men quickly jump onto the bars, either side of me and push my shoulders down.

  “Give me your hands girl!” Shouts one of the men.

  “Please sir, don’t hurt me.” I cry desperately, releasing my grip on the middle bar and pushing my hands behind my back. I feel rough hands grab my wrists and bind them together with a cable tie. Having disabled me, the men jump down to stand behind where I’m resting.

  I squeeze my thighs tightly together and clench my butt cheeks, but I know that in my bent position, I’m unable to hide the peeping fig-like cleft of my secretive sex lips.

  “Six for the crime and six for running,” announces one of the men.

  “No please,” I shout. “That’s too muuuuuuu!” THWATT! THWATT! THWATT! THWATT! “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I howl into the still summer air, sending birds flying into the sky from the treetops.

  Four fierce cuts blaze from two different directions, diagonally across by tender globes, sending such a jolt of pain through my nether region, that I completely lose control of my limbs.

  My feet leave the lower rail and my legs begin to flail and scissor in an attempt to relieve the explosive mix of painful sensations coursing through my buttocks. To my absolute horror, despite my attempts to do otherwise, I’m revealing my girlish charms to the two stick wielding tormentors…

  * * *

  I wake with a start, sit up and look around the bedroom somewhat disorientated. What the fuck was that! The dream was so vivid, unlike any I’d experienced before.

  Just before I went to sleep, I was reading an erotic story, but nothing as steamy as I imagined in the dream. I feel my face and discover that I’m flushed and sweaty. When I swing one leg out of bed, I find my pussy is glistening in the rays of the morning sunshine and when I stroke my cleft I find my labia swollen, hot and sticky!

  My god that was some dream!

  I jump in the shower and while the fierce spray enlivens my muscles, I search out the soft entrance to my gushing sex. Usually, I rub myself tentatively, but my need is so intense I shove two fingers as deep as they’ll go and begin to furiously frig myself. I have to rest my free hand against the wet tiles, while my body shudders and my knees weaken beneath me.

  I hadn’t realized how aroused I’d become in my sleep and it only takes a few seconds to trigger the onset of a delightfully intense orgasm. The only downside, is that my pubes are prickly, so I quickly shave my vulva in preparation for donning my bikini later. I hate body hair, so particularly enjoy the final appearance of my smooth pussy.

  Once I finish drying myself, I walk through to the sitting room and fire up my laptop. There’s very little room in the tiny one bedroom flat, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m not a hoarder and by nature have always kept my belongings to a minimum.

  My father was in the army, so I travelled the world to wherever he was stationed. I therefore became used to moving on and leaving the old set of possessions and memories, behind me.

  My name is Judy Swann. I’m 22 and still trying to find my roots. I have never had any luck with boyfriends and I’m still searching for the right guy, hence my visits to chat rooms.

  The three relationships that I experienced in my teens, all ended lamentably, when I became bored with the guys. It wasn’t their fault, it was just that I was looking for someone with a stronger personality.

  My imaginary lover is going to be someone with a forceful personality, who will sweep me off my feet and take charge. Unfortunately, there aren’t too many of those men around in real life, but I’m still searching!

  I sit down at my computer, click on my email account and notice I have two messages in the in box. The first is spam, but the second is from a friendly guy called Sergio. I scan through it and see that he’s reminding me about our date and saying how much he’s looking forward to the meal, later this evening. I’ve been building up to meeting him for a while and finally agreed to have dinner with him, right here in Brighton.

  I’m excited and anxious at the same time and can’t help wondering if he’ll be anything like the person he described to me in his e-mails. I’m actually very curious to find out more about the guy. He told me that his p
arents arranged for him to be educated here, rather than in his home country, Italy, which was a coincidence, because I spent a couple of years living in Italy when I was younger.

  We met in a chat room and soon progressed to e-mails. One night he attached a photo that wasn’t particularly flattering, which pleased me, because it indicated he’s not vain. Of course, I’m not naive enough to think that the picture of a young handsome man, is really him, but various details that he gave, seemed genuine, so I eventually agreed to meet him at one of my favourite restaurants. First though, I’m planning to go to the beach and meet Mary, a work colleague, who I’ve been friends with for ages. As I study myself in the mirror, I absentmindedly imagine myself sprawled naked on the hot sand. I shake my head at such thoughts, because in reality, I’m very self-conscious of taking my clothes off in public. It’s strange that all my fantasies and dreams involve being naked and punished in some way, while I’m actually a very timid and a shy individual.

  I would have liked to be taller than 5’2” and have larger breasts than my ‘A’ cups, but I’m slim and fit a size 6 dress perfectly, so everything’s in the correct proportions.

  I have a round face, emerald green eyes, and high cheekbones, but my favourite features are my full lips, fair completion and array of cute freckles. I have unusually fine red hair, which cascades around my shoulders and usually attracts most of the favourable comments from the men.

  The weather forecast is good, so I decide to wear a pair of washed denim shorts over my bikini bottoms and a t-shirt, for the walk into town. The one advantage of having small, firm breasts like mine, is that I don’t need to wear a bra for support, but I do have particularly large, perky nipples, so I usually avoid anything too tight or low cut.

  I finish dressing, and after a quick breakfast, prepare a bag for the beach. Once I’ve slipped a pair of stepped sandals on, I grab my purse and set off for the town centre.

  I’m a conservative dresser and have to really force myself to wear revealing clothes, so as I walk along the seafront, I feel quite self-conscious in my scanty shorts and top. My outfit brings many admiring glances from the young men who pass me by, making me blush and thrilled at the same time.

  Being a Saturday, the narrow strip of pebble beach is quite crowded, but I know that Mary will be near the pier in a spot we always meet. I spot her on the beach, sunbathing on a red towel in a white retro bikini, which I thought suited her conservative character. Mary is my best friend and we’ve worked together in the same office for a couple of years.

  She’s 23, a year older than me and has a very bossy nature. When we’re out together I can always rely on her to ward off any unwanted attention from guys that often came swarming around me. Apart from being much taller at 5’8”, she’s heavier and actually enjoys throwing her weight around.

  “Hi Mary,” I greet her. “It’s a bit crowded today,”

  Mary rolls over onto her side and smiles up at me.

  “Hi Babe, plonk yourself down and soak up some of this gorgeous sun.”

  I fish a towel out of my bag, spread it out on the pebbles and lay down beside Mary. I slip my shorts off and immediately feel embarrassed about the minimalistic size of my black bikini bottoms. We chat for a while, before I casually mention the blind date with Sergio.

  Mary, who’s lying on her back, half turns and props herself up on one elbow.

  “Judy, what do you know about this guy?” she asks, with concern in her voice.

  “Oh, quite a bit actually. He sounds like a genuine type to me,” I reply, quite defensively.

  She pulls a face and gives me that ‘Be careful’ expression, she’s always pulling.

  “You’ve spoken to him?”

  “No, but his details sound genuine.” I say, trying to ease her concerns. “No need to worry Mary. I’m meeting him at Fanelli’s for a meal, so I’m not going to be out alone with a strange man.”

  “I should think not on a first date.” She says emphatically, as though she’s my mother! “Judy, it’s very dangerous to meet men over the internet,” she carries on. “If I didn’t have something arranged for tonight, I’d come along and check him out for you. How old is he?”

  “Oh, he’s only 30, which I think is a good age,” I add unnecessarily.

  The thought of Mary prowling around, while I meet Sergio, unsettles me somewhat. She peers at me with her warm, hazel eyes and I can tell she disapproves of me meeting a stranger on my own. For fuck’s sake, I’m 22 years old!

  “Oh Judy,” she says, placing her hand on my shoulder. “What was wrong with Dave at the office? He’s a nice guy and would take care of you. Meeting strangers like this isn’t the answer to finding your handsome prince!”

  “Don’t worry Mary, I can assure you I’ll be careful and won’t do anything silly.” I promise, sounding a bit like her little sister or daughter!

  I quickly change the subject and within a few minutes we return to reading our books. Mary was referring to a guy in the office, who took me out a few times, but he’s such a wimp and not my type at all. I want someone to sweep me off my feet, just like the main characters in the novel I’m reading.

  I regret mentioning my date to Mary and hope that her words of warning and sound advice ends up being totally unnecessary.

  Chapter 2

  After spending the morning on the beach with Mary and a few hours shopping for some new clothes, I return home to change into the flashy outfit I bought for my date.

  I’m feeling bold, so I decide not to wear a bra under the blouse. However, I choose a pair of plain white cotton panties to remind me it’s just a date! I slip a pair of white hold-ups on and white stilettos with 3” block heels to boost my height a little and then study myself in the mirror. I look good in my underwear, but I have no intention of letting Sergio see me like this until I’ve satisfied myself that he can be trusted.

  To complete my outfit I don a yellow blouse and blue, knee length skirt, which is flared and dances around my thighs delightfully.

  Fanelli’s is a popular Italian restaurant in Brighton town centre and is always busy on a Saturday night. I’m confident that I’ll be relatively safe in the company of a stranger there, and still be able to get a little privacy in one of their isolated booths.

  For some reason I’m nervous when I arrive early, but by the time I’ve had a couple of glasses of white wine, I’m ready to meet Sergio. The tall Italian arrives on time and to my surprise, looks even more attractive than the image he sent over the internet. I didn’t send him my picture, but he instantly recognises me and strides over to where I’m sitting, before introducing himself confidently.

  I know Sergio is 30 years old and 6’0” tall, but didn’t appreciate that he’s quite so broad shouldered and solidly built. I’m immediately struck by his confident nature, rugged well-tanned features, intelligent blue eyes and unruly dark brown hair. His wide mouth and thick sensuous lips, enliven his angular face and his eyes twinkle with interest when he smiles at me. In short, his rugged features tick all the boxes on my wish list!

  “Judy?” he asks, speculatively.

  “You found me,” I joked. “And on time…”

  “Someone so attractive is easy to find,” he says smoothly.

  It was the first of many compliments that tripped off his tongue during the evening. After the initial pleasantries, he told me that he was into body building and running, which scared me a little, because I’ve never been to a gym in my life. We spoke about each other’s family, and dwelt a little on his parents and the family home in the North Italian Alps.

  The Italian food was delicious and Sergio’s intelligent conversation made the time fly by. He insisted on paying and then persuaded me to go with him to an exclusive nightclub, down by the sea front. He didn’t have his car with him, so I felt safe taking a taxi across town. Sergio proved to be a good dancer, but most of the time we chatted, while I drank too much alcohol, and he drank soda and ice.

  When closing time arrives, I�
�m disappointed to be going home and having to put my jacket on. The time has flown by and I’m genuinely pleased to meet a man who is attractive and good natured. Sergio holds my jacket up and when I slip my arms into the sleeves, he leans down to talk softly into my ear.

  “Judy, I’ve had a fantastic time tonight. Shall we drop by my place for a nightcap, before I take you home later?” Without thinking about it, I’ve become relaxed in his company so his request doesn’t raise any alarm bells in my slightly fuzzy mind.

  I wouldn’t normally go back to a man’s flat on the first date, but he seems so respectful and considerate. I can’t fault his behaviour, for he’s acted like a gentleman during the whole evening, so I only think for a second before agreeing to his suggestion.

  “Only if you promise not to take advantage of me,” I joke, letting him guide me out to the taxi.

  The amount of drink I consumed earlier, may have had something to do with my decision, but I feel at ease in his company, so decide to enjoy myself for a change.

  “Judy, I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself,” he says confidently.

  The journey back to his flat only takes a couple of minutes, during which time he takes the opportunity to kiss me passionately and have a gentle grope of my body.

  By the time we reach the apartment building, I’m breathless and wanting more from the ardent Italian. We jump into the lift to ascend to his 8th floor apartment and the moment the doors close he grabs me in his arms and crushes his lips against mine. I return his passionate kiss with as much fervour as I can muster, fighting his tongue with mine and wrapping my arms around his solid body. His strength thrills me, while I get the first glimpse of his power and dominant personality there and then in the lift!

  The apartment is huge compared to my tiny flat, and decorated to a very high standard. There are two bedrooms, an open plan longue/diner and a stunning fitted kitchen, which is equipped with every appliance imaginable. However, I feel as though the flat doesn’t really have a ‘lived in’ feeling, probably because everything is so neat and tidy.