Ernest Bloomberg was a virgin at twenty. This fact, this difficulty, was not altogether unusual, nor was it his fault. Ernest was attractive enough, a tall, six foot four inch man with a powerfully built body, piercing blue eyes, a strong jaw, and a full head of hair.

Ernest had the misfortune to grow up with his widowed mother, who worked as a computer scientist at a remote scientific base deep in the wilds of northern Alaska. For eight years she and Ernest and a dozen men worked at the station. There were no females there other than his mother.

At twenty, he joined the army, and was sent to another remote base, this time in Arizona. There were a few females on the base but there wasn't any real opportunity to approach them. Besides, Ernest wasn't comfortable around women, who were enigmas to him.

He didn't know any women, other than his mother, and even after being transferred to a more civilized locale, he never saw the opportunity to get near them. Ernest disapproved of drinking and smoking, and didn't go near bars. He didn't dance, had never learned, and never wanted to learn. He met few women in the course of his job, and couldn't imagine approaching a woman he barely knew to ask her out.

Ernest would have been humiliated had he been turned down.

Ernest quit the army, never having been comfortable there, and found a job as a clerk in an insurance company. There were any number of attractive women there, but Ernest was shy, and too wary of rejection to approach any. So even as he passed thirty Ernest remained a virgin, never having gotten to know any women he found attractive well enough to actually date.

Unfortunately for him Ernest had a very high, very powerful sex drive. He constantly dreamed and fantasized about sex with women, and was forced to masturbate several times a day. He consumed voracious amounts of pornography, which he bought by mail order because he was too embarrassed to purchase it in person.

He had books, magazines, movies, even pictures he'd written away for that were supposedly from ordinary girls.

Ernest was an incredibly frustrated man. He wanted to have sex with a girl, a lot of girls, yet he wasn't able to. This frustration led more and more to anger at the women he saw around him, the attractive nymphs who had lush bodies yet weren't willing to let him play with them.

That he had never asked didn't matter to him. He was sure they would have said no even if he did. Every time he saw some cute girl walk around, especially if she was wearing tight pants or a low cut top or a short skirt, he wanted to bend her over and shove his cock up their pussies or backsides.

It annoyed him that he couldn't do this. It irritated him that they made such a big deal out of it He would be glad to fuck any decent looking woman who asked, Why wouldn't they return the favour? He was even willing to use their bodies while they slept, so as not to inconvenience them, and they'd never even know it had been done.

He began to fantasize about just grabbing one off the elusive female creatures off the street and sating himself upon her in every conceivable way, whether she liked it or not. And if they dared to complain - the sluts - he"d teach them what angering Ernest Bloomberg meant!

As the days and weeks and months went by his fantasies became increasingly complex, and he devised more and more intricate ways of kidnapping and imprisoning gorgeous women, then forcing them to bend to his will, forcing them to serve him, even forcing them to love him.

All of it was just fantasy, for he was too timid to ever carry out such plans, until, one day, another favorite fantasy of Ernest"s came true. He won the lottery. He hit it big, and never needed to work again.

The problem was that even wearing expensive clothes it was hard to get women to break into his house and have sex with him. Ernest still didn't go to bars or nightclubs, and though he met women on the street, in stores, or wherever, the were, at best casual acquaintances.

He didn't have the nerve to ask one for a date, and had no idea how to get to know them better. He thought about going to college. There he'd be with women for extended periods of time and could get to know a few.

But he didn't want to go to college. He'd always hated school. He didn't want to work either, especially since he was now well off. He thought about hiring a prostitute; he'd thought of it many times, but couldn't bring himself to have sex with some cheap whore who would be bored and casual, and would probably have every disease known to man.

What he wanted were the pretty teenage girls he'd dreamed about when he was a teenager, and the pretty college girls he'd dreamed about when he was a twenty, and the pretty young office workers he'd dreamed about in his twenties.

But even at thirty-five he was still a virgin and had still never had a date, nor even asked a woman for a date.

His frustration was mounting. In his fantasies now he often had the women hung up by the wrists. He would whip them and shock them with stun guns and otherwise torment them. He would make them call him master, and crawl to him on their knees. He would tie them so tightly they couldn't move, then rape them mercilessly. And they would climax despite themselves, forced to admit that Ernest Bloomberg was a man and they had been wrong to have rejected him for so many years.

One day, while having lunch with his broker in a restaurant, a gorgeous young teenage girl walked past the window, clad in a skin tight mini-dress. She caught both their eyes and the talk turned to teenage girls. That was when the broker mentioned one girl in his building, a pretty one who he'd sometimes run across in the elevator wearing nothing but her nightshirt. It seemed she traveled from her place to another apartment in the building, perhaps a girlfriend's or an Aunt's.

The girl became a part of his fantasy life. He'd stop the elevator and use her right there, right up against the wall. Only, as he knew, stopping the elevator rang a bell, and no doubt someone would soon arrive to find out the problem.

But what about grabbing the girl there and taking her elsewhere? Taking her down to the basement and out, away, somewhere he could enjoy her at his leisure without worrying about someone sticking their nose in and interrupting?

He knew, from his own experience living in an apartment, that when getting off the elevator on any floor but the first, or the garage, it was extremely unlikely that there would be anyone there to see you. So in his fantasy he grabbed the girl, drugged her, and got off on the second floor, or perhaps the twentieth, and then...

Well, he didn't know what then. Just what the hell would he do then? He didn't want to go to jail, after all, nor did he really want to hurt the girl, raping and whipping and beating her was one thing, but he didn't want to hurt her.

And what kind of drug would he use? How would he do it?

Time passed, and his fantasy fleshed out. He had money, and was extremely intelligent. He studied up on drugs, on the things that would knock people out quickly. It was something to do, after all. He still didn't think he'd actually do anything about it, but he didn't have a job and had few friends.

Ernest had a big finished basement at his house. He had some workmen come in and build an elaborate bomb shelter beneath it. They thought he was a bit nuts, but were glad to take his money. The bomb shelter had a thick steel door that couldn't be opened except by pressing the right numbers into a keypad. That door, and the shelter, were down a flight of secret stairs hidden behind a wall panel.

He put a king sized brass bed in the shelter, as well as a whirlpool bath, a big screen TV, thick carpeting, and other items, then constructed some frameworks, bolted hooks to the roof and walls and floors, and mailed away for elaborate bondage gear, lingerie and sex toys, as well as the whips and flogs and other devices to give his prisoner the punishment which would make her his creature.

All he needed then was the girl.

Ernest was approaching forty now, and starting to think he"d always be a virgin. It was time to take a risk and indulge himself.

He drove to another city, and checked into a motel on the edge of town. He called a junior college and asked them when they let out for the day, then drove there and parked a short distance away.

He watched with binoculars as hundreds of pretty girls left the building. Some were small and thin and flat chested, and too young for his taste, but many of them, the older girls, were gorgeous, with long legs and eye popping chests. After some studying Ernest picked out one and followed her from a distance. She stopped at a bus stop, then got on and rode away. Ernest followed.

Eventually the bus let her off and she walked home. It was a house. He was frustrated by that, seeing no safe way of grabbing her on the streets she walked on. He drove back to the motel and tried again the next day, then the next, then the next.

He found the girl he wanted at last. She was a stunning looking girl with an adorable face, a nice round bottom, and good sized breasts. She was a blonde too, which was his favourite. Her hair was shoulder length, but straight and thick. He preferred straight hair.

Best of all she lived in an apartment building without any security. This too appealed to his fantasies.

He waited for her there the day after he followed her, waited in the lobby, trying to control his anticipation. His car was parked in the garage right next to the stairs and he had a big army surplus duffel bag, which he had decided was large enough for her to fit into once folded up.

There were only two elevators in the building. He waited by one, watching out the doors. When he saw her coming up the walk he sent one elevator up to the top floor, then got in the other and rode it to the basement.

He kept it there for a minute, then let the door close and moved into the corner. Sure enough, the elevator stopped at the first floor, the doors opened, and the girl got in, and so did a middle-aged woman.

Ernest was bitterly disappointed, but hid it. He hoped the woman would get off first, but luck went against him.

The next day he waited again, replayed the game, and again, when the doors opened, another person got in, this time an old man. Ernest felt murder in his heart. In his mind he tore the old man limb from limb and smashed the pieces against the walls and floor. However, the old man got off on the third floor, and his heart leapt.

In his pocket was the device which he had decided would efficiently give him control of his soon to be prisoner. It was a stun gun, packed with enough electrical voltage to stun a grown man into dazed silence. The girl probably weighed little more than a hundred pounds. As the doors closed behind the old man Ernest"s fingers tightened on the box and he drew it slowly from his pocket. The girl wasn't paying any attention to him. She was looking up at the numbers. He was behind and to one side of her.

Slowly, his hand shaking, he drew the device out of his pocket and activated it, then, his finger on the trigger, he pushed it against the small of the girl"s back and pressed the button.

He was terrified at that point that nothing would happen. He had wanted to test it on himself, but hadn"t, of course, fearing pain.

The device functioned perfectly. The girl let out a startled gasp, arched her back, threw herself forward into the doors, then collapsed into his arms.

By the time the doors opened on her floor he already had her feet and lower legs in the bag. Heart pounding, he hammered at the door close button, frantically tugging the bag up over her slim thighs, then over her hips. He bent her limp, unconscious body forward and tugged hard on the bag, forcing it up over her and closing it. A chunk of blonde hair protruded from the opening and he stuffed it quickly inside, hitting the basement button and trying to tug the bag up higher.

He was sweating, his heart going a mile a minute as the elevator lights blinked on one after another, counting downwards. It hit Basement, at last, and the doors opened. He held his breath, but there was no one there.

Feeling a tremendous relief, he hefted the bag up over his shoulder and crossed the narrow hall, then opened the door to the basement and scurried out to his car. He unlocked it, gently laid the bag in the trunk, then closed it and looked quickly around. There was no one in sight, and he climbed into the front and drove quickly out of the garage and up several blocks to a vacant lot.

There he opened the trunk and then tugged open the bag. The girl"s blonde hair burst forth, and her head fell out. Her eyes were already fluttering weakly, and he gasped and fumbled in the trunk beside her, picking up the leather hood and jamming it over her head.

He tugged it down quickly over her pretty face, forcing the leather in under her jaw then buckling it tightly in place and locking the buckles. There were two narrow holes over her nostrils and one wider round hole over her mouth. Ernest stared down at the girl"s lovely mouth, the lush lips slightly parted, and then ran a finger slowly along their length, transfixed.

She was his!

He took a deep, shuddering breath, looked around once again, then jerked the bag lower. He placed a pair of leather restraints around the girl"s wrists, then forced them behind her back and locked them together. Drawing the bag lower still, he pulled it off her legs, then added another pair of restraints, fastening them together before rolling the girl onto her stomach.

There he pulled her legs up and back, and, with a small chain, fixed them tightly to her wrists. Finally, he picked up a thick strap. It was attached to a ball gag, and he pinched the girl"s jaw to force her mouth wider, then slowly worked the gag into it and placed the strap around her head, buckling and locking it.

He straightened and stared down at her, almost in awe, then, licking his lips nervously, slammed the trunk closed and climbed back into the drivers seat. He carefully back to the motel, checked out, then got on the highway and headed home.

It was difficult to be patient. His foot kept sinking lower on the gas pedal, and it wouldn"t do to be pulled over for speeding now. He did his best to obey all road regulations, to be a model driver no policeman would show the slightest interest in.

Two hours later his heart began to beat with growing excitement as he approached his neighbourhood, then as he drove the car into his garage and closed the door.

"I did it," he whispered, amazed at himself.

He had done it!

He climbed out of the car and hurriedly opened the trunk, then paused, staring down at the helpless creature laying there inside it. The girl was conscious now, and looking up blindly through the hood.

The hood had no features, and with the strap buckled around her head covering her mouth there was little sign of humanity, of personhood. Ernest liked that. It was hard to be cruel to a person, to a pretty young woman. But to this... this creature, this faceless, eyeless, voiceless thing, which was really no more than a body, well, it could be his toy, and he could do to it whatever he wanted.

She... it, was wearing a thin gray sweater which hugged her buxom young body tightly, displaying the curves of her femininity, the curves which had aroused his heart and mind and body for so many years without respite. He stared at her bared legs, the skirt lifted up to just below her thigh, then, hand trembling, reached in and eased the skirt higher, enough to show a pair of dark blue panties.

"Mine," he whispered.

He unlocked her wrist restraints from the ankle restraints, then, taking her bound arms, grunted with effort as he dragged her up out of the trunk. When he got her erect he bent and pulled her up across one shoulder, then straightened with a gasp and turned and took her through the house, then down the stairs to the basement. The bomb shelter was open and waiting, and he bent a little as he eased through the narrow door and carried her inside. He set her down on the bed, then turned and hurried back to the door, closing and locking it.

Mine, he thought. Mine!

He moved to the bed, where the girl...the thing lay on its side. It was writhing weakly, its arms pulling and twisting at the tough leather restraints holding her wrists in place. The head was raised off the bed, half turned, as if it could see behind it.

Ernest sat on the edge of the bed. His weight alerted the thing and it jerked its head towards him. But of course, it had no eyes to see. He licked his lips, then reached out a trembling hand and laid it on its left breast.

He heard a muffled sound from beneath the hood, and the thing tried to twist away from him.

Yet he was encouraged by the response. She couldn"t really resist! She couldn"t even protest! Couldn"t call him names! Couldn"t reject him! Couldn"t even see him!

He pressed his hand forward, squeezing her breast now, elated at the softness of it. He squeezed the other breast, then let his hand slide down her heaving belly and between her legs. He tugged up the skirt and caressed the soft flesh of her inner thigh, marvelling at the delicious texture of her skin.

He moved back to a table where he had laid objects in preparation for this moment, and took up a pair of strong, sharp sheers before returning to the bed. He first undid her shoes and removed them. The ankle restraints were over the top of her socks, but he did not wish to remove them yet. Instead he cut at the socks top and bottom, until he could tug them off.

Next he cut the skirt up the side of one hip, and unwrapped her lower body. As she twisted he caught sight of one lovely buttock and his heart soared as he realized the blue panties were actually a blue thong.

To Ernest, women wore thongs only for one reason; sex. They wanted to feel sexy, to look sexy, to feel and look hot and sluttish and show off their beautiful bottoms.

Slut, he thought. You"re going to get just what you want.

His hand slid in between her thighs and he squeezed her sex through the thong, watching as her body writhed helplessly and twisted in its bonds.

His toy. His thing.

He cut up the sides of her arms, then cut up the side of the sweater, tugging off the remains to reveal a matching bra. Like the thong it was lacy and displayed her proud young body to good effect. He stared at the rise and fall of her chest, at the revealed cleavage of her round orbs, then squeezed her breasts through it, exulting in his freedom to touch her, to feel her, to do anything he wanted to her.

He snapped the shears through the elastic between the cups and they fell away to reveal a pale expense of firm, rounded breasts. Heart pounding, he took them in his hand, kneading them softly and admiringly. He stared at the pink nipples and the darker skin of her areolas in awe and delight, then bent and took one into his mouth, sucking and chewing and licking feverishly.

The girl - the thing - writhed and moaned, but he ignored that. It was his toy, not a person, his faceless body, and he licked and sucked and chewed at the delicious flesh all across the two luscious breasts, his erection straining the front of his trousers.

Gasping and slightly dizzy, he straightened, then, after a moment, picked up the shears and cut away the remains of the bra. He ran his hand down her chest and belly and in between her legs, then up once again to the waistband of her thong. His fingers caressed the elastic, then slid inside, feeling the thin mat of pubic hair as his fingers stroked deeper and deeper.

He felt the narrow slit, and rubbed at it excitedly, giggling a little to himself as the thing twisted in its bonds.

He drew his hand back, eyes alight now, mind gripped by fire, and cut them away.

He stared at his naked body, his naked toy, lips drawn back in a rictus of eager delight.

Mine, he thought.

Such soft skin, so warm. His hands ravished her, moving up and down her legs, up her belly, and over her breasts. He reached down only reluctantly, a little warily, and unclipped her ankle restraints, then tried to push her legs open. She resisted, and he felt a sudden rush of anger.

Stupid bitch! What did she think she could do!? Did she think she was going to deny him!?

He hesitated to talk, but finally did so.

"Open your legs," he ordered, his voice cracking slightly.

She ignored him and tried to draw her knees up against her belly.

"If you don"t do as I say you... you"ll be punished," he said.

That sounded stupid, and he blushed. The girl ignored him still.

"Stupid bitch!" he shouted.

He hesitated, then slapped at the side of her face. Her hidden face, her featureless face. It threw the head to one side, but there was no cry of pain - of course, just a muffled sound through the ball gag.

Ernest felt strong. He felt powerful.

He slapped the side of the face again, then again, grinning at the faceless leather hood.

"I said spread your legs. Slut!"

Still she denied him, and his eyes grew hot.

He slapped her face, then, using his other hand, slapped the other side. He jumped up, forcing her legs apart and jamming them down with his knees against her thighs. He leaned in over her and slapped the featureless face from side to side, glaring at it, furious at how stupid the thing was for daring to disobey him.

He stopped, panting for breath. The thing moaned and whimpered softly within its hood.

That will show her, he thought.

He gazed down at the beautiful body spread out before him and his heat rose once more.

Mine.

He ran his shaky hands up and down her body, then bent and fingered her sex. His fingers eased up and down along the narrow slit, pushing and wiggling downwards, pinching the pubic lips and pulling them open to investigate what lay beneath.

He forced a finger in between her pubic lips and drove it all the way into her to the knuckle. He wanted to use her desperately. He knew his cock wasn't in any condition to withstand any kind of contact with a female for long.

He pumped his finger in and out of the girl's sex, then added a second finger, adoring the softness and tightness and warmth of the inside of her body. Then he jerked his own pants down and off, and knelt between her legs.

He took the lubricating oil he'd bought and smeared it over his fingers, then slid them between her pussy lips again and coated her insides as far as he could reach. He smeared more on his raging hard-on, touching it lightly for fear it would erupt.

He was flushed with desire, his cock purple and red and bulging with excitement. His hands stroked up and down her body, then he eased his cock forward, pressing it against her opening. He pried her pussy lips apart with his fingers and pushed his cock head inside.

He clenched his teeth as he fought down an explosion, then pressed forward. She was tight. He could feel her pussy squeezing down on his cock head, then on his shaft as he pushed it deeper inside. She made a soft little groan and he leered at her, feeling like a conqueror.

He thrust forward, his cock flaming with need. It rode the cushion of oil down into her belly, and he was buried in her tight depths. His balls were pressed against her and he let his body drop flat atop her soft flesh and humped wildly.

He came within seconds, spilling his seed inside the faceless toy"s belly. He groaned and sucked on her throat, still humping slowly against her. He was so aroused that his cock stayed hard, much to his delight. He continued to thrust into her, using long steady strokes, his hips rising and falling as he drove his tool into her unresisting body.

His hands squeezed her breasts, rolling the nipples. He ran his tongue over her throat then bit down, excited beyond measure. He jerked himself back to a kneeling position, then lifted her legs and shoved them back against her body.

His cock came free briefly, but he didn't care. He jammed her legs back against her body and revelled in the sight of her lewdly displayed sex and bottom. He let brought her legs up over his shoulder, then pushed his cock into her again and thrust deep.

A small grunt escaped the gag. He pumped slowly, watching almost the full length of his tool as it emerged from then disappeared into the girl's opening. His cock was steaming with heat as her insides caressed it. He pumped faster and faster, slamming his hips against the girl's buttocks.

Her body jerked and her legs bounced against his chest as he drove his pole into her. He leaned forward, pressing her legs back against her again, squashing them down against her body as her bottom tilted up. He hammered his cock down into her, stabbing her with furious lust, a grimace of pleasure on his face as he watched her featureless hooded face.

His cock exploded again and again, spurting powerfully with every beat of his heart. He blasted a tremendous amount of semen down into her silky depths, thrusting wildly until the cum passed. Then he settled down on her, sighing tiredly. He let her legs fall aside and lay upon her prone body for a while.