Kinknapped

1. Vicki

Chapter 1

Vicki

U gh, Naughty-Hour hookups were the worst, and I was beginning to regret having a libido that my toys couldn’t satisfy like a real penis. The encounters from the dating site began to feel like being at a new rollercoaster ride and waiting over an hour to ride it, filled with anticipation and excitement. The elation to have an intense thrill that slightly threatened one’s safety while also providing a relaxing environment, an escape. Sadly, Naughty-Hour booty calls were the equivalent to waiting hours in that crowded line only to find out you got in the wrong one.

No intense rollercoaster waited at the front because you didn’t pay attention to the separation of rides, one being on the left and one being on the right at the entry. Both were overly crowded, like the app of losers, so you believed you picked right. Now, a choo-choo train kiddie ride sat in front of you, so you ride it because you just waited forever for it. Gone is the elation and thrill, leaving you feeling hollow and disappointed… like the majority of the men on Naughty-Hour and Dummy Dating.

They talk a mad game and beg for your Snap—which were for men having affairs or the porn addicts that only begged for nudes—but we’re left with this lack of gratification. A reality where a girl’s dream deflated because she’d been lied to. Well, it was a lie to her, but the men who showed up thought they were the shit. They thought their dick alone could shatter our world, refusing to learn the proper ways. And why would they when they got off?

Even now, if the man I was with paid attention, he’d hear the lackluster tone of my bored interference. Hell, he might even recognize the sound if he saw the movie that inspired it. Most knew The Princess Diaries , so they’d recall when Mia says, “I look like a moose.”

Her hair stylist, Paulo, replies, “But a very cute moose. Make all the boy moose go ‘WHAAAAA’!”

Well, that sound now came out of my mouth because of the boy moose I let look at me. He couldn’t see my lack of enthusiasm, resting my bored face on my palms as I balanced on the hotel bed with my elbows. He took me from behind like he was about to win a buckaroo rodeo. And yes, I meant buckaroo because he clearly never won anything above a participation trophy like the kids entering their animals and skills.

He reminded me of my cousin who roped the fake animal targets to practice on before the day he did the real thing. He wanted to be a bull rider, but my aunt wouldn’t have that for her son. At least this Naughty-Hour dude rode me longer than the typical eight seconds. Maybe that came from being a moose instead of a bull in this scenario, but it made me wonder what would be harder to ride… Had anyone tried to tame a moose? I’d have to Google that later. Along with horns or antlers being more dangerous.

Though, that danger seemed more enticing than meeting strangers online to have sex with. Hell, I’d almost be willing to walk myself in front of a wild pack of both. I’d feel more than this pencil pecker pretending to stuff me with anything more than air. The second I sat up, I knew a queef would vibrate between my lower lips, but what could I do about it now? Also, I didn’t mind a smaller dick when the man attached to it could get me off before using it, but this one slammed right into me like all the other pumper chumpers.

“Oh, yeah! You like that, don’t you?” Oh, right. He cheered himself on to his finish, creating dialogue between us without me doing more than my WHAAA’ing. I thought for sure he would’ve noticed my repetitive sound that showed no emotional depth to signify my enjoyment, but he’d been too busy satisfying himself with a live blow-up doll outside of his mother’s basement. I demeaned myself to a blow-up doll because I refused to engage when they did this. Ugh. How did I end up here so often?

Making a face, my logical side just had to remind my horny one that nothing was being gained by upping my body count. If anything, I added an endless sea of one-nighters to my list. The worst part, I told the men what I wanted in the bedroom. Up front, I mentioned I liked it rougher, and they’d get a side of me not many ever did. They pretended they could compare, but none measured up.

I read dark romance like a true page-turning gutter whore, begging to call a man sir or daddy, but none provoked those words from my lips. I didn’t want to service losers who didn’t want to meet my needs like the Little inside of me longed for. A submissive slut, eager to show my master what only he’d ever get. In real life, very few knew that secret even existed because I had a high profile to keep, and that meant maintaining my control. Most thought I’d be a dominant in the sheets because of my daily personality in the accounting department.

Inside my chest, I felt a burn that’d never go away because I couldn’t be a submissive with just anyone. Whoever could handle me in my daily routine of being an empire princess who had to battle entitled old men for my position and my need to please in the bedroom didn’t exist. Moving my elbows out, my face fell into the pillow to hide my sadness. Part of me wanted to call it quits now and send him on his way, but I could hear his self-encouragement to reach his finish. He upped his talk on filling my pussy and how I’d like it.

Of course, I made him wear a condom. When he went to bitch about how it made him feel less pleasure, I pointed to the door of the hotel room for him to leave. They always asked how I could book such a nice suite, but I kept my cards close to my chest. My identity had only been known among the wealthier crowd of business owners. It was why I never brought these losers to my apartment for them to never know my status, and to keep my privacy safer. Hell, I didn’t give these idiots my real name to not gain a stalker, hunting my trust fund.

Out of nowhere, I heard my phone begin to ring. Following the vibrations to seek it in the blanket, I found my best friend’s name on the screen. Sometimes, I ignored the safety check-in if it came during the sex part, but I answered when it was this level of frustration. “Hey, Luce. What’s up?”

“Oh, fuck!” he shouted behind me. “That’s right! You take that call while I fuck you from behind.”

“A let down, I take it?” Luce could hear the even tone in my breathing and the half-assed grunt I made when he picked up his pace. The new one still didn’t ram me hard enough to change my unconvinced WHAA’ing. As best friends, we knew each other’s sex noises and kinks. No kink shaming between us.

“More than you can imagine,” I deadpanned.

“Keep pretending we’re not doing this, babe. It’s so fucking hot!” he whispered this time, placing his fingertips against my round love handles. Even if we were trying to keep the sex part a secret, he shouted about it already, and he didn’t grip me hard enough to make me moan.

“Jesus.” Luce made a sound of disgust. “One of those, huh?”

“Yep.” Popping the P, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Remind me to delete my accounts later.”

“Done, babes.” She would too. I’d been on a Naughty-Hour bender for three weeks with too many outings like this one. “I called to check in, but now I just want to hang up and bring wine with a long ass hug.”

“A merlot sounds fantastic,” I whimpered. “Maybe some Stellas?” Stella Rosa was my absolute favorite wine, and she knew that. Every flavor I’d tried tasted like buzzed juice on my tongue. For a woman who had a sophisticated palate, that cheaper brand rose above the rest.

“Be there in twenty. Send me your room number when dipshit leaves. I’m sure it’ll be soon.”

“Very. He talks to himself to egg himself on.” Yeah, this couldn’t get any worse as I hissed the next part. “He even says my lines.” Saying it in the open, I waited to see if he heard. He didn’t, focusing only on the erotic level my answering the phone did during this moment. God, at least I had a bestie who cared and supported me during my lowest moments. And this would definitely be added to the list. “Please hurry.”

Hanging up, I knew Lucinda had my recovery handled. We’d done this for each other more than either of us could count, being friends through all the hard years. At twelve, I moved to her prep school, and we just connected. Ever since, we had each other’s backs unlike the family who were supposed to. In the rich community, parents only pretended to know if their kids were okay. As long as we showed up to Sunday brunch halfway sober, they acted like everything was perfect. No wonder I had some daddy issues and attention seeking behavior, as my current therapist called it. At least I could admit to having some problems but ask me if I wanted to fix them.

When the dude began to spill his seed, I realized one grave error. I’d seen him put a condom on, but I hadn’t seen him keep it on. Hot jizz now hit my core, freely shooting up my love tunnel like a gondola boat would be rowing for the holiday of love coming up.

My body moved faster than my mind, instinctively rushing to get off his wimpy cock. A trumpeting of queefs engaged my core more than he had in the last ten minutes as I scurried away. “What the fuck! ”

My raised voice and hackled spine weren’t enough to deter him. Instead, when I swiveled my head to nearly bite off his dick, his eyes were now closed as he used his hand to finish pumping every last drop. Next to his knee sat the half-used condom I made him wear when he entered me. I didn’t even feel when he pulled out long enough to remove it, that’s how bad this experience had been.

He sighed in relief after getting his sloppy load all over the hotel sheets. Leaning for his naked ass to sit on the back of his thighs, his flaccid cock shriveled up even more. He thought this stance made him impressive, but I found it sad. “I told you I couldn’t feel anything with it on. If you wanted me to finish, I had to take it off.”

“I said you couldn’t fuck me without a condom,” I growled.

Shrugging, he moved off the bed to find his pants. “You weren’t complaining.”

“I wasn’t cheering either,” I quipped.

“Look, babe, sometimes us men need more.” Oh hell. Of course, that’s what he’d say right now.

“More?” I cackled, tossing my head back. He’d only flipped up my skirt I didn’t wear underwear with, so I stayed completely covered for this one. What a shame because I had some thick curves and full tits. A real man would’ve admired me for the body type I had. “More, you say. I guess you’re getting more because I have an STD.”

Yeah. That made him pause buckling his belt and slipping into his shoes. “What do you mean an STD?”

“Exactly what the word implies. Oh, wait, they call them STIs now...” Giving him a big grin, I walked to the door of my hotel room and opened it for him to leave.

“What kind of psycho doesn’t tell their sexual partner they have a fucking STD?” He ripped his jacket off the floor, tucking it over his elbow to get away faster.

“The same level of one that has to combat ignorant men who think they’re above the rules. I got it the same way I just gave it to you.” Winking, I also saluted him. “Maybe you’ll keep your condom on next time a girl says to. Who knows, maybe you’ll end up with a kid with your new, itchy friend.”

“Are you not on birth control?” The horror on his face only satisfied me more as he stood in the hallway of the hotel now.

Shrugging, I closed the door like I didn’t know. “Maybe you should find out before you decide to make yourself feel better. ”

Once the door slammed shut, I let out a harsh breath. More regret came with this one than I planned for. Clearly, I didn’t have an STD, but I wanted to make him think twice. Hopefully, it would save the line of girls after me from having him remove his condom.

Shooting off my room number to Luce, I asked her to swing by CVS for Plan B too. I hadn’t been on birth control for the last three months because it messed with my temperament. But if you said that to a man, they tried to say you were trying to trap them. Thank fuck some of us girls knew how to handle ourselves in a world that wanted to tell them they had to have babies without making men take the same amount of responsibility.