Helen Is Taen

Helen was not having a good week. Shed had an awful fight with her boyfriend two days ago, and hadn't spoken to him since. Her car was in the shop for repairs, so she'd had to take the bus to and from work. She'd drawn Gwen, someone she barely knew, for the office "secret Santa" gift exchange, and on top of that she'd procrastinated on buying the gift. The exchange was tomorrow, and now Helen had no choice but to fall back on a book as her gift.

On the way home from work she got off the bus two stops early, at a shopping plaza a few blocks from her house. She wandered into the chain bookstore and began browsing, with little idea of what she was looking for. Cookbooks... travel books... the latest best sellers. Damn, she had no idea what Gwen would like!

Her mind must have gone a little blank; she didn't notice anyone nearby until she bumped into a tall man, knocking his books to the ground.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, quickly bending to help pick up his books.

"That's alright," he said. "No harm done."

She noticed that he had an American accent. She was still embarrassed at walking into him, so she continued, "I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going. I'm looking for a gift for someone. We do a gift exchange at work, and I'm afraid I'm at a loss for a gift idea."

"You must work in an interesting office," he replied. She didn't take his meaning until she looked at the nearest shelf. Without realizing it, she'd wandered into a section labeled "Marital Aids" at one end, and "Erotica" at the other. The book directly in front of her announced "Ten Days to the Ultimate Orgasm!" in lurid lettering.

She found herself stammering an explanation, a felt a flush creeping up her face.

The man just grinned at her discomfort. Eventually, he saved her by offering his own explanation, "Actually, I just wandered into this section myself. I'm just looking for some books to fill the time. I just moved here from San Francisco, and I'm having a little trouble finding people with similar interests."

"Well," Helen smiled, "London's a big city. I'm sure you'll find people here for whatever you fancy."

"I suppose so," he replied. She saw his eyes slowly sweep over her, as if assessing her. He looked directly into her eyes, not saying anything more.

Helen was still feeling a little embarrassed, and the man's gaze was making her uncomfortable. She excused herself, and squeezed past him, brushing against him in the narrow aisle. She had a momentary vision of knocking his books down again, but thankfully got past without further incident.

By then she had given up on finding a book for Gwen. She quickly left the bookstore and walked the few blocks home, telling herself the convenient fictions that she'd "pick something up in the morning."

Helen wouldn't have though her day could get worse, but when she reached home, she realized she didn't have her purse. She hoped she'd left it in the bookstore... if it was still on the bus, she'd never see it again. She could at least phone the store to see if anyone had found her purse.

Her neighbors, John and Sara, had a spare key to her place, and watched over things when she was away. She stopped by and asked Sara for the spare key, giving her a quick explanation.

She planned to call the bookstore as soon as she was in the door, but instead took a few moments to kick off her shoes, pull off her hose, and poor a glass of wine. She took a long sip, and then dug out the phone book to look up the number of the bookstore.

She was surprised when the doorbell rang. She quickly strode across the room and opened the door, wineglass still in her hand.

It took her a moment to recognize the man she'd seen in the store. He was standing there, holding her purse in front of him, with a smile on his face.

"I'm afraid you left this in the store. You must have dropped it when we bumped into one another. At any rate, I looked for some identification, and I saw from your license that you lived nearby... so I decided a bit of a walk would do me good."

"Oh... thank you." She said, taking her purse. "What happened to all those books you were carrying?"

"They're holding them for me. I'll stop in over the weekend and get them. Hope you weren't too worried about your purse... but it looks like you're relaxing a bit."

She saw him looking at the glass of wine she held in her hand. On impulse, she asked him if he'd like to join her. He followed her into the kitchen, where she poured him a glass of wine, and refilled her own.

"You should check your purse and make sure everything is there," he suggested.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not necessary. It was wonderful of you to bring it by. Most people wouldn't have bothered."

"Please, just have a look inside. I'd feel better."

Helen opened the purse and quickly flipped through the contents. Reaching in, she pulled out a thick envelope - the kind photos come i

"This isn't mine," she said, puzzled.

The man shrugged his shoulders. "What is it?"

She opened it slowly and spread several of the pictures on the table. Once again, she felt a hot flush on her face as she saw the photographs of naked men and women in various sexual positions. In some of the photos the women were bound, or blindfolded. Some of the women were photographed alone, others with a man, or several men.

"So Helen," she heard the man saying, "Do you suppose I'll find people in London who like to do this sort of thing?"

Her head jerked up and she met his gaze. She realized she'd been staring at the pictures for some time.

"Well, I'm sure you will. As I said, it's quite a big city."

"How about you, Helen? You seemed to enjoy the pictures. I notice you spent a long time looking at the ones where the women were tied. Do you like the thought of being helpless? Exposed?"

"I think you'd better go now. Thank you for returning my purse, but you can keep your dirty pictures."

He was staring at her, making no move to leave. He took a sip of wine and said, "It's turning you on, isn't it Helen? The thought of exposing yourself? Your nipples have gotten very hard."

She looked down quickly and was embarrassed to see two stiff little bumps, clearly visible through her bra and sheer blouse. She felt a warm tingling between her legs, and realized that she was becoming aroused.

He reached forward and pulled a photo from the pack, laying it on the table in front of you. A very attractive young woman was seated, blindfolded and gagged, on a chair. Her arms were tied behind her, and her breasts protruded, her nipples hard and pink. Helen found the picture incredibly erotic... she felt the warmth building between her legs. She felt him standing behind her, looking over her shoulder at the picture. He wasn't touching her, but she could feel him presence as she stared at the woman in the photo. She found herself gasping for breath, unable to think, unable to look away from the picture.

"Her name is Jen. I bet your nipples look a lot like hers. I think your tits are a little bigger though. I'd like to see your tits, Helen. Take off your top for me."

"I will not!"

"Then I'll take the photos and go. You can drink your wine, and take a bath, and feed the cat... and never have to face what you are feeling right now. Is that what you want Helen?"

She turned and looked at him. His eyes met hers and held her gaze.

"Take off your top." His voice was quiet, calm, but it something in his tone made it a command.

She found herself slowly unbuttoning her blouse, removing it, her eyes never leaving his. She let the blouse fall to the floor.

"Take off the bra."

She reached behind and unhooked the clasp, letting it fall. She saw his eyes, gazing at her body, the same look she saw in the bookstore... as is he was assessing her.

"Lovely. I love the color of your nipples. And I was right, you are bigger than Jen."

She felt her breasts rising and falling as she breathed. She could almost feel his gaze on her, like a physical thing.

"I want you to throw away that bra, and any you have like it. I want you to wear something with a lower cut, more revealing. Something you'd wear to seduce a man."

Something about this seemed to bring her to her senses... she had the first clear thought since he had arrived at her door.

"I'm not about to throw out perfectly good bras! You men have no idea what those damn things cost!"

"It's your choice, Helen... it's always your choice. You can either move forward with your sexuality, or we can stop. But you ARE a very sexual woman, and you are worth the cost of some sexy new bras to showcase those lovely tits of yours."

He reached forward, and for the first time, he touched her. He took her nipples between his fingers and pinched. She found herself watching him as her pulled and twisted her nipples. Her breath came faster, and she realized that she was incredibly turned on.

She heard a whimpering moan, and realized that it was coming from her own mouth.

Just as suddenly as he had started, he took his hands away. "Turn around," he ordered.

She found herself obeying him, without even thinking about it. She heard a rustling of cloth, as it he was pulling something from his pocket. She started to protest when he tied the blindfold over her eyes.

"Quiet," he said, with a matter-of-fact air.

She began to feel frightened when her tied the gag in place. She'd never felt a gag before... not a real one. It held her mouth open uncomfortably, filling it with a thick roll of cloth.

He pulled her arms behind her and tied her wrists together. The bindings felt like strips of cloth.

He pushed her down onto the kitchen table, he naked breasts pressed flat beneath her, her arse in the air. She tried to protest but could only make gurgling sounds around the gag in her mouth.

He unfastened her skirt and pulled it down, followed by her panties. He slapped her leg once, sharply, forcing her to lift it so her could pull her clothing off, then did the same with her other leg. She could still see the photos laying on the table, the women bound, helpless, and exposed, just as she was.

She felt his hand between her legs, touching her. She realized for the first time how incredibly wet she had become. His fingers opened her lips, exploring her, penetrating her. She moaned as his fingers slid into her, slid in and out, violating her. She was intensely aware of everything... the hard wooden table pressing against her tits, the gag growing wet with her saliva, his fingers stretching her.

She heard him unfastening his belt, lowering his zipper. And the she felt the engorged head of his cock pressed against her. She felt it sliding up and down her wet slit, rubbing her swollen lips, rubbing over her clit. She moaned again, wanting to scream, to tell him to stop.

She felt him press the head of his cock against her, felt him pressing into her. She felt his shaft entering her, filling her. He pushed in, then slid out, then in again. With each thrust his cock moved deeper into her. He was fucking her, his cock moving like a piston, in and out of her wet cunt. She was moaning continuously, drool running around the gag, down her cheek onto the wooden table.

He pounded into her, without a word, faster and faster. She felt this cock swelling, throbbing, starting to jerk, and then she felt the hot wetness of his cum spurting into her.

The bastard had cum in her! She felt tears welling in her eyes, tears of helplessness.

He spoke to her, as casually as if he were talking about the weather. "You're tighter than Jen. More like Michelle. You moan like Michelle, too. I'll have to show you a picture of her."

She felt him pull his cock from her, felt his warm semen dribbling down her leg. He pulled her to her feet, and then pushed her down onto her knees.

"Follow me. Follow the sound of my voice."

She started to stand, and he pushed her down again.

"No... on your knees. Now come with me."

She followed him, burning with humiliation, crawling after the sound of his voice. He seemed to be sitting in one of the chairs in the living room... one of her chairs, she reminded herself.

When she reached him, she felt him removing her gag. He pushed her head down. Not roughly... more like he was guiding her. She felt his cock, soft and sticky, brush across her lips.

"Clean me," he said.

He held her head in place until she took him into her mouth.

She began to suck on him tasting her juices mixed with his semen. As she sucked, he gave her words of encouragement, telling her how sexy she was, how beautiful she looked. She felt his cock growing harder as she sucked him.

"Clean it all," he said, "lick the base. Lick my balls too."

With her hands still bound behind her, and the blindfold still in place, she found it difficult to reach all of the wet, sticky places on his cock. She felt it brushing against her face, leaving a wet trail. She found herself strangely aroused as she felt him getting harder. Her world narrowed as she focused entirely on the taste and feel of his cock, and the wetness between her own legs.

He seems to be satisfied with the job she had down. He lifted her head and tied the gag back in place. Wordlessly, he lifted her to her feet. He untied her arms, and she suddenly realized how stiff she had gotten. He allowed her to stretch and flex her arms, and then tied her wrists together again, this time in front of her.

Holding onto her arm, he guided her into another room... her bedroom.

She let out a low moan, knowing that he was going to fuck her again. He laid her gently on the bed. She felt him spreading her legs, and realized that he was tying her ankles to the bedposts, her legs spread obscenely. She heard him stepping back, as if to admire his work.

"Do you like to masturbate, Helen?"

It took her a moment to digest the question. She shrugged her shoulders.

He continued speaking, as if talking to a small child.

"Of course you do. You're a very sexual woman. You surf the Internet, looking at porn. You have dirty chats with men. And you give yourself very hot, very nasty orgasms."

He was silent. She realized he was waiting for a reply. She hesitated, and then nodded her head, unable to speak with the sodden gag in her mouth again.

"Good." His voice was very quiet. She had to strain to hear him. "Helen, I want you to masturbate for me. I tied your hands in front of you so you can reach your pussy. I want to see you rubbing your clit, shoving your fingers in your wet cunt. I want to see you cum."

He was silent again. He had a way of remaining completely still. She couldn't even hear his breathing. She wasn't even sure he was still in the room.

Slowly, she let her hands move down her body. Her body shuddered when she touched her pussy... almost as if she'd surprised herself. She began to slide her fingers in and out, spreading the wetness. She knew that he had cum in her and imagined his jism on her fingers. She began to move faster, rubbing herself. It was awkward, with her wrists bound together. She alternated sliding her fingers in and out, then rubbing her clit with a little circular motion. She felt the tension building... she hadn't realized how badly she needed to cum. She dimly remembered the man, standing in her bedroom, watching her masturbate. The man who had bent her over her kitchen table and fucked her. Her fingers moved faster and faster... her hips began to buck, her legs straining at the restraints. She was moaning again, trying to scream around the gag. Her fingers pressed hard against her clit, and her body began to quake as she came.

Her orgasm seemed to go on and on, her body jerking against the restraints, her fingers pressed tight into her pussy. Gradually she relaxed, found herself flying limp on the bed.

She heard something then... a clicking sound, she couldn't quite place. Horrified, she realized it was a camera. He was taking pictures of her! Naked, exposed, her legs spread, her fingers buried in her cunt!

She swore at him, as loudly as she could, almost screaming in frustration at the muffled sounds that escaped past the gag.

Finally, her energy spent, she collapsed into silence.

"Helen, you were incredible. I don't think I've ever known a woman with so much latent sexuality."

She felt him lean over her, felt him softly kiss her breast.

"It may take you a bit, but you should be able to undo the bindings. I'll leave the photos for you. I'm also leaving a card with my e-mail address."

"When you've gotten up, I want you to clean up. Have a nice relaxing bath and another glass of wine. Then you will write me a thank you note. You will be very explicit about what you felt tonight, and why you are thanking me. You will also tell me what you are looking for in this relationship. What turns you on, and what boundaries you would like to explore."

"You have my e-mail address. I'll let myself out and lock the door behind me. You never know what sort of people might be about."

She heard him leaving, heard the door close behind him, heard her key turning in the lock...