Loading...I am nervous as I walk up the stairwell. The sound of my shoes scuffing each stair reflects off the dingy once-white walls of the narrow hallway like an insistent warning, telling me to turn around and walk away with every step. Yet I continue, pursuing my chosen course with the same timid determination that has carried me through this day. Ever since I came out to my car and found the note tucked underneath my wiper blade.
The hallway is empty of people, but still I hear voices, dim and muffled, reminders that I am not alone. They come from doors that I pass hesitantly, echoing from floors above and below. They are the voices of people quarrelling, laughing, children playing, televisions blaring. I know the building is full of life, full of assistance should I require it. It steadies the fear inside me, keeps my legs trudging forward.
I reach the door of your apartment. I glance once at my watch. I pause and do not knock.
My mouth feels utterly dry, my tongue impossibly swollen. Every muscle in my body stands tense. A growing ball of tension fills my stomach. I can practically feel my legs trembling beneath me. Yet I stand there, alone outside the apartment door, afraid to move. I am totally unready for what is to come. I stand with my eyes closed, my imagination burning a hundred images at once across my mind.
And still I do not knock.
Unfolding the note I have crumpled in my palm, I read it once more. The tone and the text fill me with dread. The message speaks clearly of your intentions. The grammar lends itself to other suggestions. The images in my brain coalesce.
Turning the note over, I read the words scribbled on the back, confirming that I know what I am doing. I know who u are. That single sentence frightens me to the core. The date and the time and the address that follow send the same chill down my spine that I felt at 7 am this morning. I open my eyes and stare at the number on the door.
I raise my hand to knock.
Like the falling of a gavel, my knuckles rap once against the door. The sound is obnoxiously loud to my own ears, but I sense it is not enough. Mustering resolve, I knock several times, then stand and await the outcome of such boldness. My heart pounds fitfully in my chest, and I begin to count the beats in an effort to calm my pulse. With every number that tumbles through my head I want to turn and rush away, but my feet are frozen now. I can only wait and hope and wonder.
I close my eyes once more. The sounds of the building fill my ears, yet I imagine footsteps approaching. When the door rattles, the bundle of nerves in my belly drops lower. My heart stops briefly. The door opens at the same time as my eyes. For the first time I see you.
You are not what I expected. You are taller than I might have thought, and lean. A shirtless chest reveals your youth and athleticism. Though not overtly handsome by any means, you are likewise in no way ugly. A subtle attractiveness emerges along with your smile. Your eyes scan my body, appraise me without a word, and in the flicker of your grin I sense approval at what stands before you.
You say my name, and I shudder. How you know me, I cannot imagine. You step back and invite me in, the door held wide. I notice your jeans, and your absence of shoes or socks as an afterthought. My eyes scan the interior behind you instead. There the room is dim, the curtains on the windows closed to the afternoon sun. The furniture is eclectic, probably garnered from curbsides or ex-roommates along the way. Some clothes and papers and books are strewn about on the chairs and end tables. I notice a candle and smell some incense burning in the background. The sound of a radio filters in from an adjoining room.
I hear a door open in a hallway above. The door closes. Footsteps and voices filter down the stairwell at the end of the hall. Your eyes are piercing me, your body anxious with energy as you keep the door propped wide with your shoulder. My own nerves are frenetic, and the voices somehow urge me towards action. I feel ashamed and afraid, stupid and silly. I am foolish to just stand there, foolhardy to step forward. Yet I make my move, surprising even myself with my decision.
I almost leap across the threshold, stepping into an unknown place with an unknown person for an unknown eventuality. I am excited by my own daring, terrified by my rashness. I have no idea what your intentions are, but the piece of paper gripped in my sweating palm sends an electric current through all my nerves. My body actually tingles with anticipation and fear.
When the door closes behind me, I feel one of us should say something. My mouth opens to speak, but my voice is lost momentarily in a dry throat. I hear you bolt the door, slide the security chain into place, and I have to swallow. My tongue feels bloated and useless.
Through an archway I see the short hall that leads to other rooms–a kitchen, bathroom, and most likely a bedroom beyond. The pumping sound of techno rushes through the empty space like a subtle wind. Finally I gain some control. I turn to speak. But I am stopped by your eyes.
You rub your chin with one hand and gesture me to silence with the other. You tell me you’re surprised I came. I shrug uncomfortably. You ask to take my jacket, and I manage to say something at last. I don’t know why I’m here. It is the truth after all. But you tell me you do. I stand quizzically while you hold out a hand for my jacket. You ask me if I have the note, and I nod. You ask me to read it. Out loud.
But first, you insist on my jacket. It is a minor thing, so I acquiesce. I slip my arms out as you stand closer and help to take it off me. I watch as you toss it lazily over one of the chairs. I am wearing jeans myself, a black shirt over a white tee. I at least have sneakers and socks. But without my jacket now, I feel all the more exposed, as if I just gave in to something I should not have. I shudder, trying hard to conceal my anxiety by stepping farther into the room, further from you and the door.
Again you remind me of the note. I hold it up. I know who u are. The date, the time, the address. I flip it over and scan what I know you want me to read. The words tumble through my head like jagged pieces of myself before I ever utter them aloud. You encourage me with silence and an almost calculating grin.
For the first time ever, I say the message out loud. The sound of my own voice inflected with a soft rasp of anxiety makes me shiver as I speak.
I would force u down strip u naked tie ur hands around ur back. Then make u crawl 2 me and suck my cock then I woudl pick u up and bedn u over the bed and give it 2 u doggystyle and anal
I struggle through the absence of structure and spelling without skipping a beat. My mouth is filled with implications, my mind possibilities. I see the grin on your face twist in amusement. How, I mutter. How do you know me? You tell me it doesn’t matter now, does it? You step closer. Instinctively I move back an equal measure.
My leg bumps against the furniture behind me. As panic floods through me I recall vividly what brought me here, the brave and cowardly foolishness that has so suddenly trapped me in this place.
I had ventured onto one of those adult websites for people looking for other people for sex. I was intensely curious, experimenting with my own thoughts, discovering and revealing fantasies with complete, faceless strangers over the internet. It seemed safe. It appeared harmless. But somehow my naivety and curiosity had led me into dangerous territory.
I experimented with chat groups, with discussion boards. I found myself posting questions on various topics, freely exposing secret parts of myself without a care. The anonymity of the site made it safe to experiment with my own desires. I found one that tickled my darker fantasies, enticed me with a thrill I had not anticipated. I explored it further.
Fatefully, I had posted a question on one group discussion board in particular. Fantasy Rape Roleplay. I had posed an interesting question, curious to see the responses. I had asked what someone would do with me if they could get away with it. I asked specifically how they might want to use me, and how they would make me comply.
Some responses were minimal, a few elaborate. Many were just replies to other replies. And one blended into the background of all the others. Until now. The note still clutched in my hand had been taken directly off that site. It had been a reply to my query, one of many. I had given it no second thoughts. Then it showed up under my windshield wiper. From that moment on I had nothing to do but think about it.
I stand alone in the apartment specified at the time indicated on the date named. Alone with a stranger. My mind reels as you step abruptly closer. I know what you want to do with me, what you intend to do whether I agree or not. I have known it all day long. I was not sure I believed it until this very moment. With your hand on my chest, I have no choice but to recall every word of that intention.
A strange curiosity had dragged me here. Disbelief and fascination drove me. Someone had found out who I was, someone who lived close enough to me to make that discovery unsettling. I had to know what it was all about. I had to know who it was. I had to know if those intentions were real or not. I had to know if I could really be made that helpless. I had to know.
With one hand you push against me. I have nowhere to go. I start to panic. The sofa behind me catches my fall. Blindly I start to scream, a weak cry for help. But just as suddenly I feel your hand across my face. The force of it stuns me. I hear you yelling at me to shut the fuck up. Other insults tumble from your lips as you jerk me upright again with both hands.
I understand now how serious your intentions are. Your hands are strong, too strong. Your grip is intense. Another slap adds to the numbness on my face, the confusion in my head. My own hands feel utterly useless against you. I hold them feebly up as a defense. With another insult I am hurled backwards again into the sofa. You tell me I asked for this. You tell me how much I want it. I only know that I should not have come here.
I am whimpering as you grab me up again. Buttons fly off as the shirt is pulled open. I fall back down into the cushions one more time. You grab my tee by the collar and haul me up again. I stumble to my feet, but have no balance. I feel my body jerked side to side as I shriek and squirm. The fabric tears a little as you pull me down the hall, farther away from the door.
Some measure of resistance in me makes my hands cling to the wall, my fingers clutch at the doorframes. My strength, however, is useless. You let go, and I tumble backwards. Crying more, I roll and start to crawl for the door. Your hand finds a hold on the top of my pants. I am jerked back and collapse to my belly.
I cannot believe I am here. I should not have come. I should not have come alone. Not to the house of a stranger. Not knowing what you intended to do. While you pin my legs beneath your weight, I feel your hands again at my collar. The black shirt starts to pull back. I cannot believe this is really happening.
I plead with you to stop, to wait. I tell you this is all a mistake. I say you don’t understand. But my arms crane back with the shirt. I feel the sleeves jerk free one by one. And you fill the air with words, foul words, cruel words. I manage to get my arms beneath me again, and I begin to squirm forward. My shoes are pulled off as I struggle forward.
Then I am flipped on my back. Your power takes my breath away. I look up at your body, the tight muscles built for this exertion. Your face remains fierce and uncompromising. I know you intend to carry out every word. Once again you straddle my legs. I cannot kick free, but I try as much as I can. My own power is too feeble, my strength no match for yours.
I beg you to stop. You only smile. Then your hands are at my belt. My voice trails into panic as my hands wrestle with yours. But yours win out, and the buckle opens. Too easily the top button snaps off, the zipper shreds wide. I gasp out of astonishment and fear. You are pulling my pants down, and I can do nothing to stop you. My hands flail to prevent it, my hips jerk to resist, but it all proves to be a worthless effort.
My breath is racing, my heart pounding. I feel dizzy and incoherent. As the pants come off my legs I kick at you, but only succeed in bouncing futilely off your chest and arms. I lose one sock in the process as well. Without your weight on me, I roll and struggle to rise, but you catch me on all fours. You hands knot in my hair and I am pulled upward to my knees. Once more I squeal in pain.
Again you slap my face, tell me to control myself. Another word of insult puts me in my place. I am starting to believe you. I am momentarily frozen as you grab the bottom hem of my tee shirt. I shiver in place while you lift the fabric, pulling it over my shoulders and head, jerking it free of my arms. I feel shamed by my helplessness, embarrassed by my vulnerability. The name you call me seems fitting somehow. I chose to come here after all.
Again you slap my face, though I have not said a word. You tell me to behave, but I am still waiting on my knees. I know I am crying, and cannot stop myself. I remember that I have chosen to come here. I had to know for myself. I had to find out.
Your hands tug at my bra, and the snaps break. I struggle to keep the cups in place, but your strength is greater than mine. You manage to pull it free and slap my face to remind me who I am. Already my cheeks are numb, my brain fuddled. I am shoved to the floor.
I land on my front and feel a moment of relief as my bosom touches the carpet. In the midst of this I am temporarily grateful that my bare nudity is concealed beneath me. I close my arms in tight and duck my head. But it is nowhere near over. Your hands pull at my panties, and I feel open air on my buttocks. I am frozen by the weight of humiliation as my ass is exposed. My panties slide down my legs and off my feet, along with the last sock, and still I am tucked with my face into the floor.
I cannot hide my nakedness, the fact that I have been so humbled so quickly. I ask myself repeatedly why I am here, and I cannot respond. I know why. I understand why. My shame is more profound than I can think about. When your weight straddles my hips, I moan in recognition. You demand my arms, and I know fully what is to happen next.
I do not move them on my own, but I give no real resistance as you take each arm behind my back. You let me know I am finally obeying as I should. Though the names you have called me echo in my mind, perhaps the face-slapping will stop at least. With my arms crossed at the small of my back, I whimper into the floor. Somewhere I have lost the piece of paper that brought me here, but the words race across my vision regardless.
You have stripped me naked. A plastic cinch tie closes tight against my wrists. I cannot pull them free. Another one closes snugly perpendicular to the first. My wrists are secured in a helpless ‘X’ from which I cannot break. I know what is next, but I cannot dare to believe it is real. I had imagined myself here a hundred times today. I had fantasized about this moment over and over. It was fine as a fantasy, something distant and impossible. It was secret and safe. I never thought it would ever come true.
I listen to you whistle appreciation for your efforts. I am uncomfortable, but have no power to move from my place now. I hear you pants unzip, can almost picture them sliding off your legs as the sounds filter into my ears from beyond my vision. You toss them casually aside. I can only shiver.
The beat of the music from the other room trembles through the floorboards. It must be a cd, not the radio. The very normality of that thought surprises me. Once again you straddle my legs, and the situation feels anything but normal. Your hands grab my naked ass cheeks, your fingers knead them powerfully. A word of satisfaction is joined with another insult. Perhaps it is a compliment if I choose to take it as one.
Unexpectedly you lick my ass and bite the flesh there. I gasp in surprise. Your hands slap my ass then knead the flesh then slap each cheek again and again. I have been utterly humbled. My own hands attempt to object, but the plastic bindings bite into my skin, preventing any effective movement. I am your prisoner, helpless, defenseless. I know exactly what I am here for.
I should try to object, try to scream louder and longer. Maybe someone will hear my struggles and rescue me. But even so, they would find me naked. The thought of embarrassment stupefies me. And still I would have to explain myself. I came here willingly. I would have to explain my involvement in the porn site, the fantasies I have already exposed. The police would find out. My family, my friends would learn my secrets. I would become more helplessly exposed than I am lying here on the floor of this strangers apartment. I am shamed into silence.
You shift forward in the midst of my thoughts. I feel your legs straddle my hips. The weight of your balls brushes over my ass. A single point of warm flesh touches the very base of my spine. When you lean forward and jerk my head back by the hair, my chin is thrust out in a grimace of pain. My breasts are crushed into the carpet as I labor to breath. Your name for me itches along my naked skin, curls my toes against my will. I have become yours completely. I have no right to object.
You tell me what you expect of me, and I try to comprehend. I understand I will be punished if I don’t comply. I feel your weight lift from my back, if not from my soul. I see your feet, your legs, your naked ass stroll towards the far room. You own the place and everything in it, including me. Another insult, and a warning, demands that I follow.
As your note implied, you are making me crawl to you. With my arms behind my back, I think it is impossible. I cannot bear to imagine my punishment. But I struggle forward. I rock my shoulders, squirm my hips, pressure each leg forward in turn. Amazingly, I move in the desired direction, but the going is slow–painfully slow.
My bosom inches over the carpet with every forward surge. The aggravation to my sensitive flesh is immense. My nipples scream for me to stop after only a few inches. But I know I must continue. My chest grates over the fibers of the carpet until I think I must be bleeding. I grind my teeth to hold back from shouting. I whimper for pity or compassion. But I make it steadily to the open doorway.
Once there, you encourage me on with hard demands. The carpet is softer, fuller, dark blue against my pale skin. I am rocking my shoulders and churning my hips in a tempo to keep from stalling. Sweat further aggravates the redness of my chest. My hair is in my eyes. I am nothing but a worm in your sight, inching my way towards you on my belly. I have never felt so humble or ashamed.
Yet a curious excitement lingers through every movement. The softer carpet tingles against the raw nerves of my breasts. My nipples feel engorged with static energy, bristling and eager to explode. My ass lifts and rocks nakedly before you. My sex remains wildly exposed to the empty hall behind me. I hold back tears and concentrate on my task. I know exactly what you expect from me, and that only makes my efforts more humiliating than ever.
Before I know it I have reached the space between your feet. You sit on the edge of the bed and compliment my exertions. Then you command me to my knees. I am drained already from crawling without the aid of my arms, and I pause to capture my breath. Foul words emphasize your demands. Slowly I struggle to get my knees below me. My ass raises higher while my face remains planted in the carpet. I cannot believe what is happening, what I am doing. For a moment I forget why I ever gave in to such treatment.
But my hands are painfully bound at the small of my back, and I have nowhere to run. I know I cannot reach the door safely, cannot escape your clutches or your whims. And if I managed to open the door at all, I would only find myself bound and naked in the presence of more strangers. Somehow those strangers are more threatening than staying where I am. At least with you there need be no explanations, no questions, no judgments. You will take me for what I am and use me for what I am worth. My secrets are safe with you.
I manage to lift my torso at last. I am kneeling between your legs as you want me to be. Before me your naked body ripples with a strength I might never have guessed at. Below the level of my eyes I see your manliness resting, waiting for attention. It is soft and flaccid, slightly darker than the rest of you. I cannot help to recognize your intent. You have already spelled it out for me anyway.
Your hands reach out to cup my breasts. The skin is red, sensitive, the nipples hard and dark. I wince and try to pull back as you pinch the swollen teats between your fingers. You slap my face, demanding I stay still. It is not hard enough to hurt, but nonetheless sharp enough to keep me focused. The grin on your face speaks of pure amusement.
With your choice name for me, you command me to suck you. However helpless I am, I remain hesitant. You have forced me down and stripped me as you have said. I have crawled to you at your beckoning. I know what is next on the list. I fear even more what comes after. Some part of me refuses to obey so willingly. Some part of me demands that I resist. But again, you slap my face a few times to remind me who really is in control. I cannot afford to pretend that I have any say in the matter.
When you grip my hair and jerk me forward, my face lands against your abdomen. I feel my breasts brush against the bed frame, my shoulders pinned between your thighs. The aroma of your maleness tickles my nostrils already. You push my face down further, and with both hands rub me against you. I cannot believe it has already gone this far. Your soft penis rubs across my nose, my cheeks, my lips. My face is buried in your pubis, and I am helpless to stop it. I have no balance by which to pull away, so I am forced to suffer even this humiliation without protest.
Pulling my head away by the hair allows me a moment to gasp and draw a fresh breath. Your hand strikes my cheek once more. Further insults compound the intensity of your command. I have no choice, no reason not to obey. No reason other than a failing pride. But already I find myself too shamed for pride. Slowly I bend forward.
Without my arms, I keep my balance by widening the stance of my knees. With my thighs thusly parted, I can only feel the cool air of the room swirling around my naked sex. It swims over my bare ass like a lewd reminder of what I have become. My shoulders remain pulled back by the sharp binding at my wrists, and my nude bosom leans outward as if eager to receive more torment.
Bending at my waist, I lower my head into position once more. I would close my eyes if I thought it made a difference, yet I feel I must see what I am doing. The smell of sweat lingers over your member like an incense. I lick my lips in preparation. I know I have only myself to blame.
I begin by nibbling. As if I am tasting something unknown for the first time–which in truth I am–I let my lips trail over the soft flesh of your manhood in little bites. I hear appreciation in your voice, though the words themselves are insults. Positioned as I am, I cannot deny the name you use for me. Your fingers curl in my hair, brush the loose strands away from my eyes. I am doing what I can, what little I know how to do. I descend to the tip, and place timid kisses on the head.
After a moment, I feel you stir. With my face so close, I cannot help but notice your testicles squirming in their sac. The dark hairs tickle my chin. I might stop if I could, but I see no way out of what I have begun. I feel foolish to have stepped into your domain, and ashamed that I am still here. I am your captive, until you choose to release me. Now I understand I must please you, and hope it is enough.
Your cock twitches against my cheek. At your prompting, I let my tongue join the efforts of my lips. I tug at the bindings on my wrists, reminding me of who I am. I lick the shaft and sense the changes begin. With no other recourse, I do what I am told. I suck the cockhead between my lips, into my mouth. The change in you is apparent already. The one in me is harder to detect, yet impossible to deny.
The moisture of my tongue makes the flesh of your manhood slick and ready. A throbbing warmth seems to hover beneath my nostrils. When I pull you into my mouth once more, the head seems already bigger than it was. I slide my lips back and forth, and I feel you stiffening. You moan approval. My balance is hard to maintain, bound as I am, and when I pull back a moment, I see your cock staring greedily towards me.
The whole of it is already longer than I thought, and it is growing by the moment. With one hand you push my head down to it again, feeding my humiliation with cruel words. I open my mouth and suck you in, letting my tongue bathe the underside of your glans. Your flesh pulsates and grows with every bob of my head. I know what I am doing, though I struggle to deny it. I understand its sexual nature, and because of that I feel entirely sexy. My whole being has been eroticized.
For a moment I feel as if we are partners in this, that we are bound by an equality of desires. The fact that you are making me do the things I have only ever fantasized about seems somehow appropriate. The fact that I have not once consented is irrelevant. But I am bound and kneeling before you, and I know my place. I am only sucking your cock because you require it of me. As long as I am your captive, you will remain in control. My wishes are insignificant. There is nothing equal about us.
Now you are fully hard. I continue to suck on the erection I have produced, as if some strange matter of pride compels me. It is long and slim, and it curls back slightly at the head like a fleshy sickle. Your balls are already wound into a taut sac beneath the shaft. My saliva coats your member from base to tip, and still you urge me to keep working at it. You tell me to get it nice and hard. You remind me how you are going to fuck me with it. Though I hear your words, I cannot stop what I am doing. My shame is too far beyond that now. So I work it fully with my moth, my lips, my tongue, knowing completely that I am only getting it ready for the next phase of my humiliation.
For my own part I feel that disgrace crashing over me like a black wave. My legs are spread as I try to keep my balance, and my sex pouts open, charged and ready. I know the feeling too intimately to deny it. My body glistens with sweat, and the cool air is touching my flesh in all my exposed places. If there were some way to stop, I would. But I am already far down the path I have selected. I see no way out but forward.
With my head in your hands, you stand abruptly next to the bed. Your words fill the air with filthy innuendos that I now have no right to deny. Jerking my head back by the hair you stand at my shoulder and slap your hard cock against my face. It is just one more form of humiliation to teach me who I am. You slide the long shaft lengthwise across my lips and command me to suck it as you do. I feel like the whore you have named me, the slut eager for abuse, the cock-sucking bitch ready for more. I do what I am told, and try not to think anymore.
You turn my head in your hands and force your cock through my lips without asking. You hold no reservation about ramming the hard erection deep into the back of my throat. You seem not to care as I sputter and choke. My gagging only amuses you somehow. Again and again you thrust into my mouth, fucking my face while your balls slap repeatedly against my chin. Again and again I gag and splutter, saliva foaming at the base of your shaft and dripping from my lips like a leaking faucet. I am helpless to stop you. I only wait on my knees and endure as best I can, straining at my bonds until my fingers start to tingle.
You are shouting names at me when I feel something new in my mouth, something warm and unexpected. Though I wish desperately to reject the thought, I know you have just come in my mouth. I feel you coming still. The warm, salty ejaculate mixes with my own spittle as it trickles from my lips and chin. I find myself gagging on it around the pulsing cock. When you pull out I cough and spit without choice. I swallow as well, unable to resist the urge. I feel a gob in the back of my mouth smooth its way down my throat.
A sticky trail of semen and spittle hangs suspended momentarily between my lips and the tip of your cock. Then it snaps, and a small spatter gleams on one of my breasts. A loose bead dangles still from the end of your cock. As I gasp for breath again, I struggle to comprehend the moment. I had not expected that, and perhaps you had not either. But it seems not to phase you. You let out a small victory cheer, and remind me how good I am at sucking cock. I can only stare ahead in something akin to shame.
Then you move behind me, and I find myself lifted and pushed forward. I know what I should expect next, but I cannot steady my mind enough to grasp it. Somehow I imagined that when you came, it would all be over. But it is suddenly evident that you still have other plans, other desires unsatisfied.
Unceremoniously I find myself dumped forward on the bed. I am beginning to remember what is next. My breasts sink into the bedspread, my hips dangle over the edge. My knees just barely reach the floor, but at least my toes find purchase in the soft carpet. With my arms bound behind my back, it remains difficult to move. I know I cannot stand without rolling first, and your hands on my ass seem determined to prevent that possibility.
For some reason I ask you to stop. Why I have chosen now, even I cannot guess. But whatever the source of my apprehension, you seem quite indifferent to my appeals. You begin slapping my ass, telling me to shut up. When I no longer speak, you feel the need to spank me anyway. Because I am helpless to prevent it, I can only squeal into the mattress. My ass is entirely defenseless, my tender flesh utterly at your disposal. And as I feel you shift positions behind me, I know exactly why I wanted you to stop.
I plead some more, but that only brings more slaps to my already sensitive bottom. Then your hands slip between my thighs, pulling them slightly apart. I am fully exposed to you now. I say ‘no’ over and over again, hoping you will listen, but I feel something slipping into the folds of my sex regardless of my protests. I cannot stop you.
With steady pressure, you slide inside of me. To my shame I am already wet, and the entrance is made easily. I gasp in shock. This is really happening to me. But the shock is to my senses as well as my sensibilities. An electric current jolts through my belly as you enter me. My pussy surrounds your cock like a slippery glove. As you move in and out I start to feel my muscles squeeze around your shaft. Soon you are rocking my body to a smooth tempo that makes me groan.
You are having me, but while you are inside me, I have you as well. It is to late to resist anymore. My muscles grip tight as you slide back and forth, unable to fight the sensation. I cannot control what is happening to me. With my arms bound, I am completely yours. And every thrust strikes a cord of pleasure that makes me ache for more. I am panting now, my voice a tangled collage of protest and desire. I beg you to stop. I yearn for more. I cannot remember why I am here.
When you slap my ass, I moan. When you tug at my hair, I shout. I can hear myself, and yet I still don’t believe it. You are fucking me, building to a faster, deeper, bolder rhythm with each passing moment. My fingers curl into balls at the base of my spine, desperate to clutch at the bedspread for support. My body absorbs the shock of every hammering thrust, jolting forward and rocking back just as the next jolt hits. You are pounding into me with abandon. A silent cry stretches my mouth wide.
All the while I feel your cock pummeling my depths. It is an invader, attacking without remorse or restraint. I have been made defenseless to it. The huge knob batters my will, rolling over the sensitive bundle of nerves relentlessly. I can feel my insides stretched around your massive shaft. I am shaking with dread. I know what will happen if this goes on.
To add to my dismay I feel your fingers at my nether entrance. My hips buck to resist you, but have nowhere to go. While my pussy fights for sanity against your cock, you press your advantage over my anus. The tight sphincter clamps and puckers, and my fingers stretch to the defense, but nothing can stop you. Your thumb pushes inward on the fleshy ring. Within moments, I feel you inside there as well.
The combined sensation is too much. A wave of euphoria crashes along all my nerves. I call out for release. You are fucking me with your cock, fingering my ass with one hand. Two digits slip inside, three. I am stretched to my limit. Something wet spatters on my rear, but I hardly notice. You must have spit on me, but I fail to care. You are lubricating my tight hole, and that sends shivers through my soul.
Along with those shivers come an orgasm. It rocks over me like a tremor of delight. I call out helplessly, pray for an end to the madness within me. It is a small one, but I am sure you notice it. You slap my ass with your free hand and tell me how much you love fucking me. You tell me to come for you. You call me names. You spank me and finger my ass until I comply.
As if it is the only way out, I come again–for you or for myself, I cannot be sure of which. It is slightly more powerful, and I hear myself praying aloud. I am affirming your power over me again and again. And when that one subsides, I feel another one building close behind.
Then you slip out of me, and I cry out in sudden shock. The wave of pleasure hangs over me, waiting. I whimper, wanting your return in spite of myself. But soon enough I understand, and a new anxiety collapses onto me. I feel the pressure again at my anus. I squirm and twist and buck, but I am held in place. I cannot escape it.
Despite my fears, however, I feel a wild anticipation towards what is about to happen. Exhilaration courses through me. You have forced me to experience everything this evening, and now you must do this, too, as you said you would. My fantasies are being made real. My imagination no longer matters. I will know what it feels like whether I am ready or not.
As the pressure mounts against my tight hole, the wave of stalled pleasure grows deeper, more consuming. I groan for relief. The bulbous head pops through the resistance, and you start to slide inward. I cry out, a scream buried in the bedspread. I feel it delving, pushing, spreading, driving itself deeper inch by inch. Your shaft is coated generously by my own juices, and it seems as if nothing will stop it from penetrating my depths. You push until the base is buried, and I feel your pelvis now against my trembling ass. I am consumed by glorious pain.
I feel stuffed beyond imagining. You start pulling out again. The pressure shifts. A curious throbbing in my pussy mounts. Before you pull out entirely, you thrust back in again. I moan helplessly. Soon you are rocking back and forth once more, your cock sliding in and out of my ass while you fuck me. My anal virginity is gone. The throbbing in my needy sex races with my pulse.
The pain persists, but the pleasure starts to overwhelm it. I could never have imagined what this would feel like. A part of me is grateful that you have done this, that I am helpless to say no. I would never have mustered the nerve for it on my own. The whole evening has been a sexual blast, a forced fantasy made real. I have been blindsided by sensations I have been too timid to explore. And still you continue.
You fuck my ass while I grunt and groan, rock and writhe before you. Another orgasm teases through my empty pussy. I cannot believe myself. I am awash in humiliation and shame. You have learned my secrets, forced them from my body. Your power drives me to release. You have done all you said that you would, though I never fully believed you would have.
Just when I think it must be over soon, you change tactics once more. This time you pull out of my ass and I feel the empty hole gaping back at you. Without warning you push strait back into my pussy. The entrance is wet and waiting, so you slide right in to the hilt. I moan and pant, my hips gyrating as best they can. I am wanton for your manhood, unable to hide my need.
After a moment you take my ass again, the puckering sphincter now loose and willing. My body is rocked by unbelievable excitement. Out of my ass and back into my pussy, I cannot help but shriek. The pleasure builds faster than I think is possible. Into my ass again, and I feel as if I might faint. Back and forth, back and forth, you take my helpless holes in turn until I cannot register which entrance is which. I only know that you are fucking me, fucking me senseless. I scream again as my orgasm explodes.
My anus sucks on your cock as the orgasm crests, extended beyond anything I have ever known. You have me completely. I feel no shame, no embarrassment, no animosity or fear. I feel nothing but the glorious ecstasy of climax. I collapse into the bed and let the powerful pleasure slide through every part of me.
For several minutes after I can feel you pumping in and out. My body rocks forward with every thrust, rolls back after each stroke. Then you cum. A sudden warmth in my rectum tells me it is so. Above me I hear your voice hollering, but the words are senseless. You slap my ass again, perhaps to symbolize your victory. I do not care.
Soon after, you lift my body and lay me out on the bed. My legs are trembling like weak rubber. I could not stand if I tried, so I am grateful. A pair of scissors offer my hands a long overdue freedom. Red lines have bitten into my skin, and they throb dully. My body is covered in a layer of sweat, my skin with goosebumps. I sink into the mattress and wait.
You slip your pants on. You offer me a drink. Dizzily I raise and sip from the glass you hold out. Slowly I recover from my weakness. You direct me to the shower and offer a towel. I clean my body as well as I can. The fingers of water relieve the stress on my skin, but some parts remain too sore. Semen drips from my ass and washes down my leg into the drain. I rinse my mouth several times and swallow water, thinking it might help. In spite of the best orgasm I have had in months, I feel drained, spent, exhausted. I feel thoroughly used.
When I get out of the shower, my clothes are waiting. I dress absently. You approach with my jacket as I finish tying my shoes. The silence feels acutely awkward, and I realize the music is off as well. I slip into my jacket without a word. I have no idea what to say anyway.
You apologize for tearing my shirt, but I shrug it off. You make no offer to apologize for raping me. At the door you spin me around and take my face in both hands. You kiss me–deeply, powerfully. I stand breathless and stunned. You tell me I should be careful what I ask for next time. With a sly wink, you close the door. I stand amazed and confused in the hallway once more.
This time my hand is empty.