"Do as you're told and you won't be hurt," a voice whispers in my ear as my hands are cuffed behind my back.

The hand isn't removed so I just nod my agreement.

"Good choice," the same voice again as a blindfold is placed over my eyes. "I'm going to remove my hand now. Don't make a sound, or you will be gagged."

Again I nod my agreement, and the hand is removed.

Two pairs of hands manhandle me into an SUV, a Hummer to be exact. I'm able to tell because I climb in and out of one every day while on the job. One of my kidnappers climbs in behind me, and the other gets behind the wheel.

I'm forced to lie flat on my stomach on the floor while he straddles my waist and puts a hand on my neck, squeezing to make sure he has my attention... attention that is wavering between the feel of his callused palm on the back of my neck and how the carpet tickles my face. At least the carpet is clean. I don't think I'd be able to handle having my face smashed into the floor if I was breathing in dirt clods and dust bunnies.

"Stay down," is ordered in a fierce whisper when I shift to shake his hand off my neck.

My sense of direction is perfect, but not being able to see makes it difficult for me to keep track of our direction of travel. Plus I have a feeling the driver is taking extra turns to make sure I can't tell where we're going.

Finally we stop, and the man in back with me climbs over me and out the door before helping me out much more gently than I expect.

"You can still be gagged," is hissed in my ear when I open my mouth. A rough shove between my shoulder blades along with a snarled "now move" has me stumbling forward a few steps before another hand catches my elbow.

The sound of my feet scraping against concrete along with the salty smell tells me we're near the docks. We must be in a secluded section because I can feel the sun on my face, and I'm sure they wouldn't be leading me bound as I am if there were other people around.

"Did you forget that he cannot see?" the other guy demands, not even trying to disguise his voice.

He's obviously not worried I'll recognize it, I think, allowing him to steady me.

"You must forgive him," my escort continues. "He insisted on the blindfold but seems to forget that that means you cannot see. Do not worry. The ground is smooth and there is nothing you will have to step over." English is obviously not his native language. No one who grew up speaking English avoids using contractions and has such perfect diction. Whoever he is, it's obvious he has taken pains to lose whatever accent he might have had but his diction coach failed to tell him that most Americans use as few words as possible to get the point across.

In deference to my not being able to see, my escort takes his time moving us forward. Just as we enter a building, I hear angry footsteps march past us. From the way they echo I can tell the building is an empty warehouse. It's cooler in here and I can't feel the sun anymore.

"Do as you are told, and you will not be harmed," my escort reminds me of the words his partner said when they first ambushed me at my house.

I nod my consent just before I hear the metallic click of a warehouse office door closing. I wonder briefly if there are any windows in this room but doubt it since I can't smell the ocean anymore.

"He's right, you know," the voice of the first man says from somewhere to my left.

He's no longer whispering, and while his voice is ringing a few bells, I can't quite place it.

"If you do as I say, you won't be harmed. In fact you'll probably enjoy it. A lot."

The sound of a liquid being poured into a glass reaches my ears. A glass - most likely crystal - wine goblet, judging by the sound.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asks, his voice coming from right in front of me.

I didn't even hear him move. Does he seriously think I'm gonna drink whatever he offers me? I don't even know who he is.

I tilt my head to the side in question since I'm not allowed to talk.

He chuckles. "Do you really think I'd drug you? If I wanted to do that I would have done so at your house."

He has a point. It would have been much easier to drug me when he clamped his hand over my mouth. But then again, someone might have noticed two men carrying a third. Not to mention it would have taken more effort to get me here if they had knocked me out at my house.

"You may speak now," he tells me his voice thick with amusement.

I pause before responding, wondering if there is some way out of this.

Taking a deep breath I ask, "Why now?"

"I didn't want you to scream and get rescued before I've had my fun with you," he answers with a false petulant tone.

"What do you want from me?"

"All in good time, Caine," he purrs in my ear. "All in good time. Now do you want that drink or not? I believe it's your favorite vintage," he tells me, holding the glass under my nose where I can smell it. It has a very nice nose. Based on the smell I would definitely guess it is my favorite but I'm reserving final judgment until I've tasted it. I inhale deeply and place my lips to the rim of the glass (which is cut crystal but without being able to see I can't determine what kind), swallowing when I feel the wine touch my lips.

"Mm," I murmur, tilting my head back, signaling I've had enough to drink. "It is my favorite vintage." A Napa Valley Merlot. 2003 Sterling to be exact.

I sense him move away then seconds later hear the muted thunk of the glass being set down on a table.

"I need to undress you for what I have planned next but to do that I need to uncuff you," he informs me in a near purr, his voice coming closer. "If you resist I will remove only what needs to be removed," and here his voice becomes a playful pout, "and that's no fun."

I just barely manage to control a shiver at the image his words invoke. "I promise to behave," I tell him as meekly as I can.

One of my deepest fantasies, one I didn't even know I had until that case a couple of years ago with the bored rich girl who hired someone to kidnap her, is to be kidnapped and...not ravaged...exactly. More like... borderline rape. No, not that either. Rape is never enjoyable, not even 'fantasy rape'. Being seduced by a stranger on the other hand... Yeah, that's it. Blindfolded as I am, I have no idea who this man is, unless I can figure out who the hell he is from his voice.

"Good choice," he whispers in my ear, moving around behind me where he undoes one cuff.

I keep both hands behind my back, waiting for him to undo the other one.

"I'm only undoing the one. For now," he says with a chuckle.

Only undoing the one, I think with a shudder I can't quite control.

Still standing behind me, he slips my jacket from my shoulders. Keeping his left hand in contact with my shoulders, he steps back around in front. Compressing my lips against the urge to say something about hanging my jacket up, I shift nervously from foot to foot.

"Don't worry," he begins, telling me he sensed my unease at not being able to make sure my clothes don't get wrinkled. "I'll take care to not wrinkle them. Can't have you leaving here looking like you slept in your clothes, now can we?"

A snort of humorless laughter escapes before I can stop it.

"Relax," he orders softly, his warm breath on my ear going straight to my dick, making it twitch with interest.

He slowly unbuttons my shirt, his fingers caressing each inch of skin as he exposes it. Once my shirt is completely unbuttoned he slides his big warm and callused hands up my sides to flick his thumbnails against my nipples, pulling a gasp of pleasure from me.

"Hm. I'll have to remember that for later," he murmurs, sliding his hands up my chest to my shoulders so he can push my shirt off. It doesn't fall all the way off due to the buttons on the sleeves still being done. "Forgot about that," he snickers, lifting first my left then my right to undo the cuffs and finish removing my shirt.

"Go ahead and step out of your shoes."

I do as ordered and discover why I'm not able to hear him walking. There's a thick rug under my feet. Persian would be my guess.

I startle a little when his hands suddenly settle on my hips.

"Shush," he soothes. "I'm not going to hurt you. Promise."

I do my best to relax and just go with the flow but it's difficult when you can't see what's going on.

"I've wanted to do this forever," he whispers just before his tongue licks at my lips, inviting me to open them.

As soon as I part my lips, his tongue darts in and rubs against mine briefly before darting back out. I'm not sure what he wants so I just stand there my mouth slightly open. His tongue darts back in and repeats the caress of earlier. When I still don't get the hint, whatever it is, he growls low in his throat, and once again his tongue rubs against mine. I take a guess at what he wants and slowly stick my tongue out. His growl turns into a purr and for several minutes we stand there, lips touching, tongues stroking sensually, and probably very raunchily, over and around each other, our breathes coming in huge gasping pants. My cock has taken a definite interest in what's going on, and my pants are quickly becoming uncomfortable. When he seals his mouth over mine in order to go on an in-depth search of my tonsils, I discover he's a few inches taller than me and one more piece of the puzzle falls into place and suddenly it clicks. I know who he is and he's not the only one who has wanted to do this for what feels like forever. Ever since I first saw him at a crime scene in his uniform five years ago. It didn't matter to me that he was fresh from the academy; the sight of him in his crisp khaki uniform was enough to have me covertly adjusting my growing hard-on.

He never told me I couldn't touch, so I lift my hands to his waist and wrap my fingers around two of his belt loops to drag him closer. We both moan when our cloth covered erections bump together.

He pulls back to nibble on my bottom lip. "Now for what I've wanted ever since I first laid eyes on you," he murmurs, unbuckling my belt and undoing my fly.

My pants and boxers are yanked down in one motion and my erection bobs up to smack him in the chin, telling me he's kneeling at my feet. His huff of laughter washes over my skin, making my dick twitch and grow even harder. What I wouldn't give to be able to see him on his knees at my feet.

A hand cupped around my heels urges me to step out of my pants, nudging my feet apart so I'm standing spread-legged. He then trails his fingertips lightly up the back of my legs to hold onto my ass so he can bury his nose in my pubic hair. Nuzzling his way behind my balls, he licks his way back to circle my hole. I can't quite stifle the groan that escapes. It's been years since I was last rimmed and that was only because my partner that night was drunk and willing to do anything I asked. I shift my stance to give him even better access.

His tongue makes the return trip up my balls to the tip of my cock, which he suckles gently. I slip my hands into his hair in encouragement. Tugging gently on his hair, I get him to stand so I can pull his head down in order to do my own in-depth search of his tonsils.

Chuckling softly, he leans back. "And now for the main event," he purrs in my ear. He places my right hand on the top of a metal bedpost at about waist height. "Lay down in the middle on your back, hands above your head," he orders with a gentle shove to my hip.

A tremor of anticipation courses through my body as I step around the end of the bad. Luckily the bed isn't very tall, last thing I want is to have to climb onto a bed blindfolded. The comforter is very obviously down filled, most likely on the expensive side. The pillow is also down filled. The sheets feel like Egyptian cotton. Placing my hands above my head, I discover that the bed frame is wrought iron.

Once I'm settled comfortably, I feel the bed at my left hip dip under his weight. He gives me no time to think about what he might do next, settling instead on my thighs without hesitation. His naked erection (and when the hell did he get undressed?) brushes against my stomach when he leans over me to close the free cuff around my left wrist. He then leans to my left and the sound of a drawer being opened precedes the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open. He strokes me a few times before rolling the condom on. I hear the snap of the cap on a tube of lube, then the slurpy sounds of lube being warmed on fingers.

"God I wish you could see me doing this," he pants.

"I can use my imagination," I inform him, lifting my hips to try and get some friction to relieve the pressure in my dick and discover that he's stretching himself.

"Ah, but I doubt it'll be as good as the actual sight."

"Well, we won't know for sure until you remove my blindfold, now will, we?"

"Nope," he answers, taking me in hand causing me to gasp and buck up at the heat. He teases himself a bit before slowly sinking down until he's once again sitting flush in the cradle of my hips. "But if I remove it now, it'll ruin all the fun."

"Is that right?" I chuckle, then hiss when he begins to move. I have a feeling he either didn't stretch himself long enough or he doesn't do this very often, if at all. He's as tight as a virgin and the heat...my God! Even through the condom it's like nothing I've ever felt before.

"No...more...talking," he gasps.

No more talking. I can do that. I can lay here and be quiet all day. Just please, don't stop. I brace my feet on the mattress to give myself some leverage to thrust and to help support his back.

I expect him to now take his time but he surprises me by doing his best to get me off as quickly as possible. He alternates between rising up and down and rocking back and forth, squeezing randomly. Much too soon I find myself arching sharply off the bed as I shoot my load into the condom.

Before I even have time to catch my breath he starts to undo the cuffs. I don't let him finish, just push him off and over onto his back as soon as one side is undone so I can swallow him down.

His hands land on my head, his fingers threading through my hair, to hold me in place while he fucks my mouth. After several minutes, I place my hands on his hips to still his movements. Once he figures out what I want, I begin to drive him crazy with my lips, teeth and tongue, alternating between the long, slow swallow and the faster sucks to just the tip, my tongue playing in the slit. I run my tongue over every inch of his erection, drawing sounds of pleasure from deep within him. I kiss my way down to his balls and suck them into my mouth, one at a time. His hands tighten in my hair as I lick my way back up to swallow him down as far as I am able while I caress his hips with my hands.

Humming tunelessly, I do my best to push him over the edge. Just as I feel his balls tighten up, his feet try to find purchase on the bed in order to raise his hips closer to my mouth, his hands are also scrambling to find purchase on the back of my head without actually grabbing my hair. Then just when I think he's content to rest his hands on the back of my skull, his thumbs sweep over my cheeks to hook under the edge of the blindfold and pull it up and off. I keep my eyes closed to avoid being blinded by whatever light there is in the room. Comforted by how little light is seeping through my eyelids, I slowly open them and start to swallow when the first of his come hits the back of my throat. The taste is everything I always thought it would be: slightly bitter with a salty aftertaste. Definitely better than the wine. I love it and want more. I suck him dry and continue to hold his dick in my mouth until it's soft and then I allow it to fall out with a soft 'pop'.

Licking my lips I sit back on my heels and meet the eyes of my 'captor', my new lover, my subordinate, Ryan Wolfe. Crawling up his body, still licking my lips, I settle my body on his before claiming his lips with mine.

He grabs a handful of hair at the back of my head in order to pull it back far enough to stare into my eyes. "I always knew your mouth could do that," he purrs, the look in his eyes one of a predator hunting its prey.

I smirk down at him. "That right?"

He nods, pulling my head down for another round of tonsil hockey.

I break the kiss long enough to ask one final question. "How about you show me what your mouth can do?"

And with that dark smirk still on his face, he does.