Forbidden Fruit Pt 01B

Forbidden Fruit.

Part 1...Continued.

Four.

Captivated.

Mimi P.

THE FUNNY THING IS, Daniel T. and I are great friends - have been for over twenty years. Not funny ha-ha, at the moment, though, more like funny-strange.

Or funny-scary, like a good horror movie.

But the thing I'm saying is, that friendship is the reason why, when I surrender my right hand into his bondage.... I

trust

him.

*click*

Voil

à

,

helpless captive.

Yumm.

My pussy lips swell, my juices flow, I bite down on the napkin-gag I hold - willingly, for now - between my teeth.

True, our friendship has been mostly from afar - pen-pals, online Dom-sub and sex confidantes. Twenty-three years ago was our whirlwind of a BDSM Master-slave first-date week. Me coming to him from Vegas to California. Then after that, just emails, texts, a couple of Facetimes... and well, the online training, which was about two years ago and lasted nine weeks (another story for another time). And just the one F2F rendezvous in between 2001 and now. It was ten years ago, on the Strip, me driving in to see him at the Bellagio, dinner and a show - no fucking or playing, to my frustration - but a good time nonetheless.

Besides, he was married by then, so I already had my expectations low. Daniel's casual, charming, definitely

non-Dom

behavior that night - including the peck on the cheek he left me with when we said good night - told me everything I needed to know about where I stood with this happily married Master. Just my luck.

But the fact is, we always stayed in touch. The correspondence strayed sometimes, but always returned, sexy as ever (sometimes

orgasmically

so, for me), funny and affectionate, too. I told him everything he wanted to know about my sex life, the hits and the misses, all the fantasies that I was - and wasn't - getting fulfilled. And he told me nothing of his. But he gave great advice to an independent-minded, medium-maintenance, bratty and lippy submissive-wanna-be. Lord, I needed that - in these times, at my age, in a dating scene like Greater Las Vegas - and men being the shits that they are. Most men, I meant to say...

And because my kink was mostly closeted to my friends and family - and the kink--mates I managed to find never lasted too long - the truth was that in many ways, there was nobody who knew me better than Daniel. Funny, in a way... and I mean, funny-ha-ha

and

funny-strange. But I digress...

The point I'm making, it's because we're such good friends, that when he snaps on the cuffs - and I squirm in them to feel my helplessness, feel it weaken and awaken me at the same time, feel it juicing the inside of my thong - deep down, I know I can trust him.

But should I?

I don't mean that like,

I made a dumb mistake trusting him, and now I'm in big trouble.

I mean it more like,

Am I getting in the proper spirit of this abduction-bondage-rape scene?

You know, like, aren't I supposed to throw that kind of trust out the window, let it go, or I'll be missing half the fun? It's because we are friends, he knows this is my wildest, wettest fantasy. And I know he is a good enough friend to give it to me.

And because he is giving it to me, I tell myself -

we're not friends right now.

Or I try to. That's the way I'm supposed to feel. We're not friends, we're captor and captive. I'm his

victim,

which makes him my

enemy.

God knows he's been violent, abusive and menacing enough so far, it should be an easy leap for me to reach that state of terrified distrust in him

So why do I find my head is still reassuring me,

He wouldn't really hurt me, would he?

That's part of me that's driven by adrenaline, not endorphins - the self-preservation part - and it needs

trust

as a lifeline. And that's the part of me that so badly wants to search his eyes for some kind of reassurance. But I'm afraid to look him in the eyes. And here's the weird part - it's not that I'm afraid of what I might see in his, but what he may see in mine. Real fear, a red light, a plaintive look that reminds him what a pain-and-intensity-wussy I really am.

That he might see a plea, another one, like the one I gave him in the opening minutes of our first play-session, that will make him take pity and stop.

And I don't want him to stop...

right?

No, I want to know. What he has planned for me. And how much of it I can take.

He wants it too, I know that - a brutally uninhibited sexual assault, with bondage and torment mixed in - something he said he's never exactly achieved, to his standards anyway, with any sub-slut.

Somehow, that's another kind lifeline for me, but it's a sick and twisted one. It's the idea that he is using my helpless body to get himself off, and that's something I can give him...

without taking responsibility for choosing it.

... But

GOD,

my panties are soaking wet right now. The fear is such a rush. The handcuffs unnerve me, yes, I feel the loss of control. But I know I want this. I want his strong, violent hands on me, and I want his captor-cock in my captive-cunt. I want stricter bondage, a gagged mouth, and brutal punishment to go with that.

How brutal?

God, I have

no fucking clue

- except that I want it to be more than I can bear, and everything he wants to give me. Full Sadist, budding masochist, no limits.

Fuck me,

I want that.

Don't I?

That's the question that makes me decide, I

have

to find his eyes and look into them. I want mine to tell him whether I'm ready or not...

...And then I want his to tell me,

you are.

So I need to know what our eyes have to say to each other. And when he pulls up from the counter with his iron grip on both my upper arms, I think I have a chance to turn my napkin-gagged face toward him, catch his eyes, and...

But before I can turn quite far enough to see his face, my world spins again -

And I'm on my knees!

Five.

Helpless.

Daniel T.

FIRST THINGS FIRST, I shove my captive down on the floor, kneeling at my feet on the kitchen tiles, drop my jeans, pluck out the napkin, and pummel her mouth with one fat, hard cock. The little man has been upright and eager ever since I started roughing her up - and especially just now, after I got her hands cuffed behind her. Helpless. Me with all the power. And all that power is channeled into the rigid staff I am feeding her. The same way all her powerlessness is channeled into her defenseless mouth.

I know for a fact, my slut Mimi likes the cock she is fed to come in hot and hard - not soft, needing a little tongue-love to coax it up to attention in her mouth - plus, she bound and forced to her knees, so this must be a face-fucking dream-come-true fror her...

Not that I'm supposed to care. I remind myself,

I enjoy a nice rough sexual assault as well, and this is my fantasy, too!

I get back in character. "Eat it, whore! Swallow that cock!

Uhh-ggh

!"

Calling her names, gripping her hair and having my way with her throat, I want to make the audacity of my attack every bit as dizzying and disorienting as the bitch-slaps before. I make Mimi feel the violent force of my control... make her fear me, and out of that fear, make her want to obey. I can feel the fear, no question. As for the obedience, well, I haven't given my slut much chance to display any. For now, it's

enforced

compliance... Just ask her throat.

But well, even as much as I want to, I'm not about do her the favor of unloading my jizz in there just yet. She'd's take it as a reward, and she's a long way from that. This is just to make my point about fear, obedience and control. So it doesn't last long, maybe forty-five seconds, tops.

I pull out of her sputtering, slobbering mouth. I drag her to her feet, replace the napkin-gag, and flip her over again onto her front, face down on the counter.

She stays put, breathless and subdued.

I crouch behind her at her feet, uncoiling rope, and start trussing up her ankles.

Rope bondage, her favorite,

I know.

The links of the cuffs rattle faintly as she strains her hands. I picture her face, cheek flat against the countertop, mouth stuffed, eyes fluttering with confused, breathless lust. The shuddering tension I feel in her legs as I rope them up, that's her arousal mounting the more helpless I make her. I can

smell

it, too - the scent of her juices wafting up from under her skirt. That's like blood in the water for my eager cock. He's still rigid-erect from the unfinished blowjob, straining inside my jeans, eager to come out and play. The thrill of tying up her shapely legs, that just makes it worse.

I taunt her, "

Mmmm,

I've been dreaming of this ever since you sent me the 'legs' pic. Black nylons and fuck-me pumps -

please!

Skanky whore... you knew what you were doing. Well, you're about to get what's coming to you. "

I stand up and rip off her skirt, buttons flying, yank it off her hips. She moans at the sense of violation, her growing exposure and vulnerability. I go back into a crouch and truss her knees together with loops above and below, cinching them. I get a new, short coil to tie up her thighs.

"

Yum,

I told you these gams would look hot in tight ropes..."

I finish off the leg-bondage by cinching off between her upper thighs. "Didn't I?"

"Mm-mmh!"

"Shut up, rhetorical question." I smack her ass to make my point. "You'll know when I want my slut to speak. And when you do, you'll address me like the sex-slave you were training to be."

I straighten up, running my hands teasingly up either side of her stockinged thighs. Leaning over her twisted, pinioned midsection, I grab her cuffed wrists with one hand, and move them up the small of her back - out of the way of her general two-hole fuck region. With the other, I finger her twat through the fabric of her drenched thong. Again, I smell what her helplessness is doing for her.

"Whore," I mock her. The visual evidence of that is right there, too. As I guessed, the hose are gartered nylons, classic Betty Page bondage-slut lingerie. Seams straight up the back, the garter belt that hugs her, black with rose-colored bows - and the lacy-fringed, black satin thong.

Slut.

"Hmmm, wet-as-fuck already," I sneer.

The way she's moaning as my fingers slide the damp satin fabric up and down her slit, I know I could get her off this way if I wanted.

But where's the fun in that for me?

Instead, I yank the panties down her hips, spread her ass-cheeks with both hands...

And I plunge my cock into her defenseless cunt - driving it in up to the hilt.

*Nnnnghhhhh!!!*

she screams.

I pump her pussy fast and rough. She grunts rhythmically with the punishing thrusts. Her rape-hole is a slick, hot sheath - no resistance as I violate her captive cunt. And it shouldn't surprise me, I get her up to the edge fast this away - faster than I wanted, truth be told, because I wanted to go on raping her a little longer - but I know better. Her hot twat, hips and belly are a shuddering, trembling bundle of volcanic lust. Ready to blow.

Seriously,

one more hard thrust, and...

... And I pull out.

"Mmmmm-MLEEEEETHZZ..."

she shrieks into the gag.

From the way she

almost

formed a word, I'm thinking the gag has come a little loose. I reach over and clamp my hand over her mouth to remind of her self-gagging duties.

"I warned you about misbehaving, stupid whore. Now I just don't trust you to keep quiet on your own."

After I get her compliant, I grab a short coil of rope, double it up, pass it between her teeth and tighten. The rope-gag jams the napkin deeper into her mouth. I slip-knot the rope behind her neck and hold the slack end - kind of a bitch-leash for the mouth.

I laugh, "Probably a good idea, gagging you tighter, slut. 'Cuz when I take

this

rape-hole back here? Frankly, I'm gonna tear you up. And the cunt-juices from your pussy-rape - that's all the lube you're gonna get. So feel free to scream..."

I tease my glans up to her bunghole. I yank back on the mouth-leash, dragging her face up and back. She can't help herself, she gives a long, anguished moan of pain, helplessness, yearning, panic, lust... and

protest,

or

permission

?

"Ready or not."

I grab my cock, feed it into into the puckered bud of her anal hole... and plunge inside.

I pummel her hole with eager, punishing thrusts. She squeals, struggling at first, until after a few more thrusts, I feel she is more riding along with me. Moaning. As if she's starting to like it...

In case she's not sure yet how much she likes it, I give her a reach-around. Slipping my hand in from around her hip and up, while pumping pump her clenching bunghole, I rudely finger her slit and flick her clit. Now, whether or not Mimi is capable of anal-orgasm, I'll find out eventually - sooner or later this weekend. But for now, I just want her worked up to the edge again, and quickly, so that she feels her oncoming climax like it's something I'm

taking

from her. Just to make that point, and make it violently, that I

own

her body, its uses for my gratification, its pleasures and its suffering. All

mine.

Once I feel my cock in her anus has made that point brutally clear...

... I pull out.

"

Haha.

Psych."

I put my dick away and loudly zip up. Mimi collapses into a shuddering, gelatinous mess of heaving sobs. I pull her thong back up - doing it, I snicker, like it's a mocking restoration of her modesty. I laugh, she weeps.

But she'll get no rest from me - I still want her breathless, confused, desperate. I grab her hair, hoist her up and spin her around, facing me with her butt perched on the edge of the counter. I slap her face to remind her to behave. Then I untie the rope around her mouth.

... But, not to mix my messages, I hold the napkin in place with my forefinger. I give her a stern look, "Be a good slut?"

She nods. She keeps the cloth gripped in her teeth without my help.

I move closer. With the back of my hand, I stroke the side of her face... sweetly, with a cruel, ironic sort of affection that is a captor's appreciation of his taken prize.

My other hand drifts down her belly and fondles her her pussy over the satin of her thong. I want her aware of the thin fabric as a flimsy barrier between me and her guarded treasure, one I could easily tear away on a whim. Me, I like the feel of the slick, wet satin. And I like the feel of her vulnerability, exposure and helplessness...

... I know

she

does too.

I get this from the way her shoulders heave as her wrists strain in the cuffs... as if she hasn't already learned a dozen times over, there's no getting her hands loose. How her legs squirm in the rope with the same sense of futility. How she whimpers and moans into her gag.

And how her eyes, glassy and lost in the fog of an intense erotic trance, fix straight ahead and not at me...

As if, by not looking at me, she's not participating, not

surrendering.

I'll let her have that for now. If she wants it so bad, I'll give her that heady fantasy of struggle, of

resistance

. But the truth, is I have her completely under my control.

I move in and press into her side, gently grinding her hip as I diddle her slit, keeping my dick interested.

I speak low into her ear, "You know what's hotter to me than rape, Mimi?

Bargaining

. What that means is, no treats for you... unless you bargain for it. Until you

earn

it."

Her eyes, staring straight ahead still, look confused. As if, either she doesn't understand what I mean by

'bargaining'

and

'earn'

... or she didn't even hear me in the first place... because of what I am doing to her twat with my slow right hand.

I look down. "Slut likey

?

"

She shuts her eyes.

"Mm-hmm."

A double infraction: Speaking, sort of, and closing her eyes on me. Shifting my position a bit more in front of her, the rough left hand grabs her tit through the blouse and bra, crudely groping it. I pinch her nipple,

*hard,

and her eyes pop open again.

"Nngh!"

"

Stupid cunt!

" I bark. "

Eyes on Master!

I told you, answer me like a slave. What does a slave do with a yes or no question? Try again..."

Now I slide my hand inside the waistband of the thong, penetrate her folds with firm, probing fingers... and I watch her

spasm.

"Slut

likes

it when Master pets her pussy, yes?"

Eyes alert now to the need to please me, or else - she nods,

yes

.

"

Mm-hmm,

good." I squeeze her boob. "And slut likes it too, when Master pinches her poor, defenseless nip?"

Her head dips,

no.

"

Now

we're getting somewhere."

My right hand strokes her faster now, deeper, my softly singsong words mocking her, "

Bargaining

means, no fucking or cumming for this slut, until we work out what Master gets in return. What you get, maybe, is the anal-rape bondage-orgasm of your wildest fantasies. I said

maybe,

though..."

I laugh softly, "Think you can cum for my hand first -

hmm?

"

An enthusiastic,

yes.

I give her a piteous look, like she's the cheapest kind of sorry-ass, low-rent, suckslut whore. "

Pathetic

," I sneer.

Stupid slut, acting like she believes me.

Like she

trusts

me? Sorry, Mimi, not the deal we made.

I ease off her cunt. I'm softly stroking just inside her lips, not deeply, almost tenderly. I know what I'm doing. Her hips roll lazily in time with my hand. She chews on the gag, panting through her nose, and her eyes bore into mine, wet, wanting...

begging

.

"

Mmm,

you'll cum when I say so, not one second before." I add, softly, "Or else."

My hand on her tit roughly gropes and mashes it, gathering up her heavy boob-flesh, my thumb and forefinger encircle her nipple through her clothes. My right hand probes deeper into her slick, bare cunt, my thumb circling the clit teasingly. I feel her gaze burning on my face...

But my eyes are down, watching my hand at work.

Watching the motions of her hips, the flexing of her belly, the shuddering in her legs... gauging the pitch of her slow ascent toward climax...

"You're putting on quite the slut-show. It's getting me off, seeing how wanton and depraved of a whore you are in my hands. Go on pleasing me like this, and maybe you can start earning rewards. Slut wants a reward

now

,

hmm?

"

Several ecstatic nods,

YES.

"

Hmm,

" is all I say.

I nuzzle in closer, lean my face into her neck, and whisper into her ear,

"I told you, slut has to bargain for rewards. You want fucking and cumming, the question is how you're gonna earn it. What's in it for Master? Slut has to perform for me, please my flesh,

suffer

for me, something.

I drop the whisper and go on in lecture-voice, "Slut wants her reward, well... Let's start by remembering what you bring to the table - this being Vegas and all - what you have to bargain with. You remember your online slave-training,

hmm,

your running ledger of Merits & Demerits? No, don't try and answer, I'll remind you. The way we left off, my slut-in-training had one Demerit on the books. One Demerit to work off to get you to Zero."

Back to a whisper,

"And from Zero, slut has the chance to work harder, perform better, and maybe start earning rewards."

I give her slit a nice, sweet stroke to punctuate

'reward'

... then ease off. My handiwork is just a soft lover's tease now. I think I have more of her attention this way.