Kat’s kidnapper stayed behind her, both hands on her shoulders. She tried to pull forward, away from him, but the nylon rope held her bound wrists to the back of the chair, and she had little room to maneuver. Even so, the man slid his hands forward and down toward her breasts. Though she pulled her shoulders forward as much as she could—a feeble defense—he simply pulled her back, posture straight again. She started breathing faster, a grunt pushing out of her throat. The kidnapper slipped his hand under her chin, cupping it gently. Sitting rigidly upright, her breasts thrust forward. Her breath came even faster, but the kidnapper’s free hand was slow and certain as it probed her smooth chest and found the curve of her left breast. Both nipples were hard as stone, poking forward in an undeniable confession of her growing excitement. His fingers were thick and long, but they pinched that nipple with amazing sensitivity yet still just enough pressure. He gave it a little pull and a tiny twist, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her chest. Kat pulled forward again, relishing her inability to move, unable to look down and follow the progress of his other hand. But she didn’t need to see it—she could feel it, deep into her brain and down into her crotch.

His hand found the other breast, giving it a hard squeeze, thumb flicking at the nipple with the edge of his nail. After a few more hard kneads, he moved back to the other, his other hand remaining under her chin. She could only stare up at him, his face bent into a look of fixed concentration as he scanned her body over.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, low and calm, slowly letting his hand drift from one breast back to the other. “I hope you don’t do anything to make me hurt you.”

It was a menacing threat, and Kat felt the buried quiver of fear respond—an eager audience for a master actor, or so she could only hope.

She couldn’t ignore the growing heat between her legs, her feminine juices already moistening her panties. And as she squirmed in that chair, Kat realized that it was only exciting her further. Her struggling was an opportunity to grind herself into that chair, hard and flat beneath her. The pressure wasn’t nearly satisfactory, but with each gyration, the anticipation was building and the idea of being ravaged by this powerful man was making her more wet than she’d ever felt before.

But Kat was pinned. All she could do was try to clamp her thighs together to restrict him, knowing she wouldn’t be able to and glad of it. His hands found her panties, soaked from anticipation of what his next skillful move would be. He leaned down farther over her right shoulder, her head still pulled back but now against his own left shoulder.

He whispered a little, gave a knowing chuckle, but he said nothing. He didn’t need to.

Kat’s kidnapper peeled the silk robe away from her shoulders and let it slip over the back of the chair, the sides slipping down to reveal her legs and crotch. She sat almost completely exposed to him, helpless against whatever was coming next.

But when the man walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, her mind sparked with instant worry. Oh shit,there are knives in the kitchen! What’s he going in there for?

She watched with pitched anticipation as he looked through the various drawers, sliding them open, glancing around at their contents. He even glanced back at her in that chair, knowing what she was thinking, teasing her most dreaded fear. But after what seemed like way too long, her kidnapper turned to the fridge and pulled open the upper door—the freezer. He pulled out a plastic ice tray which hadn’t been there before.

When did he put that there? How long has he been lurking in this apartment without me knowing it? But just the notion sent a thrill through Kat’s body and mind—the idea that he’d been lurking, stalking, fixed on her from the shadows while she went about her daily life waiting for him, fantasizing about him, masturbating to him. And he could have been just a few feet away the entire time!

Kat’s kidnapper grabbed the other dining room chair and brought it and the tray back into the living room. He slowly sat the empty chair down next to her and broke two cubes out of the tray before setting it down. He sat down next to her, a chill running down her spine. She knew what he was going to do with those ice cubes.

But before he did, he set the cubes and tray down and reached up toward Kat’s hips. He moved with such casual certainty that it took her by surprise, a sharp inhale of air sucking into her nostrils as her body jerked back and away from his hands. But he wasn’t deterred, and with one hand on each side of her panties, he pulled them down her thighs to just below the knees. With one hard yank, he tore them in two, the pop and snap of the material registering deep in her ears and brain, not to mention other places. He’d revealed her completely, and though there wouldn’t have been any way to stop him, Kat would not have had it another way.

The kidnapper returned to the chair by her side and set one cube down on her forearm, very near to her bound wrists. He dragged the cold cube slowly up one forearm to her elbow, those smooth limbs twitching from the tantalizing attention. She jerked forward when he traced the other arm, then brought it up to the very back of her neck, letting the ice sit there. It was too cold, and she felt as if it was burning into her skin. She shook her head and whined into her gag, the perfect mixture of fright and fascination.

He traced that cube over Kat’s naked shoulder and down to follow the sides and bottom of her right breast. The cold was a blistering contrast and the cube melted quickly with her raised body heat. The cool trails delighted her senses, nerves tingling under her skin. He drew concentric circles around the front of her breast, slowly getting closer and closer to that sensitive nipple. Kat jerked away, newly reminded of her constricting position. There was nowhere to go.

His ice cube finally found her nipple, and the cold shot right through her chest and into her heart. She flinched and tried to pull her body away from that icy torture. But her kidnapper pressed his hand firmer over her breast, making sure that cube held its position over her nipple. It quickly became a burning numb; it hurt so good she couldn’t even feel it at all.

Her kidnapper pulled the cube away, and she was flush with relief, panting and leaning forward and to the side. But the cube hadn’t melted away, and her other breast was ready and waiting.

Another cruel tour of her sweating breast created another long, cold burn that slowly found its way to her nipple which pushed out with greater anticipation than ever, even greater than seemed possible. And when that cube hit it, her nipple nearly crackled with excited resistance. He dragged the cube down under to trace the curves below and to the side, cold water dripping down into her sizzling crotch.

He took the other cube, which he’d set aside, and another. With one cube in each hand, the kidnapper knelt in front of her chair once more. He put one cube onto the top of each of Kat’s naked feet, toes clenching as he dragged them slowly over and traced the bones of her feet with precision. He took his time drawing the cubes up her calves—front and both sides—swirling lines of cold water that meandered their way to her knees.

She flinched again, trying to pull her legs free. He scanned her legs, slowly moving upwards to her thighs. She could see that his attention was fixed on her crotch and her legs as she flexed and pulled. She wanted him to see her relish her captivity. And what was more, it was clear by the way his eyes lit up, the hungry look on his face that he was enjoying it every bit as much as she was. She was his prey, and he was ready to devour her.

And that, made it even better.

The kidnapper couldn’t resist the allure of her pussy, her grinding hips, those sweet and supple curves. And as he eased those ice cubes up her thighs, outside, top, and inside of her thighs, inching them closer and closer to a source of heat they would not survive.

But it would take a while for them to melt away entirely, and when he let the two cubes go and they naturally slid down to settle right over Kat’s labia, both of them were painfully aware of the fact. Those cubes brought an instant numbness to the smoldering and sensitive area. Kat tried to buck and push the cubes away, but gravity wouldn’t be corrected, and those gleeful little cubes remained, slowly leaking cold water down into her seat, pussy aching with the thumping chill.

After what seemed like an eternity, her kidnapper reached in and brushed the melting cubes away, bringing Kat instant relief. The cold water remained, but her skin was quickly regaining its responsiveness. The kidnapper leaned in and rubbed his hand over her pussy, fingers massaging the labia, rubbing the little vaginal mound just above where her two lips met. Kat was so wrapped up in the ice torture that even though she loved the recuperative powers of his prodding fingers, her body was in struggle mode and she couldn’t allow herself to luxuriate in his mastery. And the more she pulled away, shaking her head and whining her pitiful protests, the faster he rubbed. Her body knew the connection, a scream rising up from the bottom of her lungs to inspire even more faux fear, even more drastic wriggling, even more frenzied action by her fantastic abductor. She could see the true connection, the real cause and effect. He seemed to have the power, he seemed to be in control, but in a strange and wonderful way she was only then discovering, the reverse was actually true. Kat was calling the shots, and she had been from the start.

And he knew it too.

The kidnapper stepped away from the chair, leaving her a panting mess, dizzy with chemical surges and natural urges. She was wet, drenched, and an orgasm wasn’t far off. But Kat fought it the way she fought her kidnapper—because she wanted to inspire it, not escape it. But she wanted to wait, quickly becoming an addict of anticipation.

Her kidnapper reached into his duffel bag and rummaged around. He looked at her while he did it, and she knew he was taking his time, making her wait and wonder what he was going to brandish next. “You’re very brave,” he said in a sexy growl. “I admire that. But I think you know what I want to hear.” Kat looked straight at him, trying not to reveal that she did know what he wanted to hear, and she was coming very close to saying it.

No, don’t say it, don’t ever say it! I’m not…that’s not what I want, that’s not what I need.

Kat went on lying to herself, knowing somehow, somewhere in the back of her mind, that not only was it what she both wanted and needed, desperately, but that refusing those impulses was all part of the role, part of the dance. And she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to.

“Okay,” her kidnapper said, pulling a cigarette lighter out of the duffle bag: a big silver Zippo. He held it out in front of her, a silent threat.

What’s he going to do? He’s…he’s not going to burn me? I’m all tied up; he could douse me with gasoline and burn me alive! Oh God …

Then the kidnapper pulled something else out of the bag. He held a long, white candle with his other hand, each object next to the other.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips; she slumped forward a bit, her eyes locked on the candle. The kidnapper looked at the two items, a little smile on his handsome face. “Y’know what they used to say in the sixties.” The kidnapper held the Zippo in an odd manner, thumb under the base, index and middle finger over the top. Then with a quick snap, the top of the lighter popped open and flipped around, now opened and ready to burn. He leaned forward and pressed the little grinding wheel igniter against his knee and, with a quick roll, brought flame to the lighter. He lit the candle, letting it build up a big, scary flame. “Burn, baby, burn.”

He closed the lighter and pocketed it, holding the candle in front of her face, letting her eyes follow it as he passed it slowly from side to side, taunting her. The first big drip hit Kat’s thigh—sudden and close and hot—a startling contrast to the quicksilver cold of the ice cubes. Kat bit down on her lower lip, retracting from another possible hot droplet, and it was fast in coming, two more hot blobs sizzling on her dewy skin. It was a little pinpoint flash of heat that faded almost as quickly as it appeared, though it did linger a bit between those two points.

The kidnapper stood and pulled the candle away, both to her relief and to her regret. But he walked slowly around to resume his position behind her, but now he was holding a steady flame.

He’s not going to set my hair on fire? New panic shot through her. Why did he say that: “Burn, baby, burn”?

Once behind her, her eyes stayed on him, her body twisted as far as the chair and her bonds would allow. The man reached around with his left hand, once again setting it firmly on the bottom of her chin. A gentle but certain pressure forced her head back again; this time she could feel his torso against the back of her head. She could barely shake her head, but she did it as much as she could, urging him to continue in a way that they both understood.

He asked, “Say it yet?” Kat stopped shaking her head and looked straight up at him. But she didn’t say it.

Her kidnapper held the candle high enough to be out of reach of her face, though she could feel the heat from the little flame. With her head bent back, she had to look downward just to see the candle tilted upside down and the thick wads of wax dripping from its burning wick.

The droplets started falling fast as the flame grew—a long black curl of burnt wick growing as the candle shrank. They landed hot and unseen, little bursts of prickling heat on her breasts—one even landing on a nipple with a sensational sting.

“Say it, Lena!”

No, she told herself, don’t say it, not yet!

The drops kept falling, hitting her smooth abdomen, her pelvis quivering with every chaotic strike. Her orgasm was raging with frustration with every hot button landing near it. It was sexual warfare and her body was the battlefield, bombs tearing up the landscape, rebellion rising up from the depths.

Say it, Kat told herself, it’s going to happen, it has to happen! Let it happen now!

But she only groaned into her gag, a muffled cry of wordless wonder. Heat dripped onto her, through her, inside of her, the barrage of hot droplets becoming more than she could endure. She tried to pull away again, but he held her head close to his body, hand secure but not brutal, just enough force to keep her in place.

Drop, burn, strain, squirm: hot, cold, lust, fear. Her scrambled senses were unable to keep processing it all. Her heart kept pumping those raging chemicals through her blood, into her tissues, that orgasm pounding inside her. Kat’s hips pushed out from the back of the chair, no longer content to be ground into the seat. The very center of her body lurched up on its own, both reaching up for and writhing to get away from that rain of hot wax.

Another piping prickle of hot wax landed just right on her vaginal mound, lingering for just a second before dripping down her left labia. It was already cooling, but its job was done.

She was cumming hard now, shaking in that chair, knees wagging from left to right—the only parts of her body capable of any real movement beside her bucking hips and the raging orgasm that kept them dancing.

Say it, she urged herself, say it now!

“Yes,” she screamed into her gag, “yes…”

Her kidnapper leaned forward. “What did you say?”

Kat jutted her chin at him, indicating her gag. He peeled the gag out of her mouth, her cheeks hurting, mouth sore around the corner. He pulled the rag out of her mouth; her tongue was dry, lips already feeling chapped. Her kidnapper repeated more softly, “What did you say, Lena?”

Kat cleared her throat, swallowing hard. She turned away and closed her eyes and whispered, “Longshadows.”