Idyll: a Sex Scene

(Author's note: This piece is just what the title says it is: a description of two people having sex with some mild BDSM as told from the man's point of view: his thoughts and impressions. There's no plot, no moral, and no pretense at redeeming artistic value, and if you're looking for any of those, I suggest you go elsewhere. Sometimes you just want to knock off a nice, psychological piece of ass.)

From the dark van in the dark alley I can just see her leaving her building down at the end of the block, her hair hidden by a scarf, the belt of her raincoat tied tight across her waist. It has to be her. I know her address, and I've seen a couple of pictures of her. She's walking fast but being careful to keep her shoes out of the slush, carrying herself proud and upright, even though I know her heart must be high in her chest if she's followed my instructions and dressed the way I told her to under that coat.

I can see the gleam of her high heels from here as she crosses under the streetlight. A sudden gust of cold wind meets her at the corner and lifts the bottom of her coat, and I see nothing but stocking- clad leg up to mid thigh where the darkness of her tight skirt conceals the rest. She reaches quickly for the flapping coat and pushes it down, looking nervously up and down the empty street. I wonder if she's as nervous and excited as I am. Probably not. She thinks she's just going to meet me in a bar. She doesn't know what I have planned for her.

Just keep walking, Ashley. Come to me, baby. Come to me...

The van is dark. The heat's on and it's very warm in here and I've taken my coat off. I've got brand new black leather gloves on my hands; black pants, black sweater, and my black ski mask is pushed up on my head. I'm still not sure whether I should cover my face or not. After all, I want her to know it's me. I don't want her to be really scared, just scared enough. She's expecting to see me outside the bar. I'm just going to meet her a little early is all.

I crack the window and now I can hear the sound of the wind in the bare trees and her heels on the wet sidewalk. A nasty night, but that's okay. We're not going to be out in it long. Saint Valentine's Day, but no pink cherubs and Cupid's arrows for us. This is the day to give passion its due and to unmask all your desires. My tastes run more to the extremes of love, and unless I'm totally mistaken, so do Ashley's.

We know each other, but only from e-mailings, from talking on-line. We know each other in that strange cyber way, where you know all about a person's deepest, most secret sexual desires, even though you've never laid eyes on them; never heard the sound of their voice. Tonight that's all supposed to change. Tonight she was coming out to meet me at a bar not far from her apartment for the first time. Only I had different ideas.

I know what she likes. I know what she fantasizes about. She thinks she's going to meet me in a nice cozy bar where we can get to know each other, but I have different ideas. I want to make one of her fantasies come true, and I'm just about to do that.

"Hi Ashley," I say, stepping in front of her. "Going somewhere?"

I startle her and she recoils in sudden fright.

"It's me, love. Rob. I thought I'd meet you a little early, out here on the street. Hope I didn't startle you."

"Rob? You're Rob?" she asks. She clutches her raincoat close and her eyes search my face, but before she can say anything else I take her arm. I spin her around, back to me and pull her towards the van.

"Wait! What are you...?"

I put my gloved hand over her mouth. "Shhh! Don't say a word! Just get in the van. Trust me, baby. You won't get hurt. Promise"

I pull her back into the alley and she staggers against me, confused, walking backwards, not sure whether she should struggle or not. I know I'm smearing her perfect lipstick but already the thrill of using force on her has me excited, and she doesn't know whether she should resist or do as I say. I make sure she doesn't have time to think about it.

The side door of the van is open. I drag her through the cloud of idling exhaust fumes and half throw, half lift her inside and climb in with her. I slide the door closed behind me, so hard that it makes the van rock.

"What are you doing?" she asks in confusion. "I thought you were going to meet me..."

She doesn't know what's happening. I grab a strip of tape off the driver's seat and quickly bind her wrists, wrapping the tape right over the sleeves of her raincoat. I turn her around roughly and tie a scarf against her mouth and she fights me, twisting away, but I persist and when she opens her mouth to yell something else I get the scarf between her lips and tie it snug. I pull her down to the mattress in the back.

She's still struggling and twisting around, but when I get the blindfold on her she calms down. I think she finally understands.

"This is your fantasy, remember?" I ask her. "All the times we talked about this? How hot you got thinking about it? Well now I want to make it real, Ashley. You understand?"

She's lying there on the mattress, her knees to the side. She mumbles something into the scarf, then stops, thinking about it. Then she nods her head.

"I've got to redo your hands. I strongly suggest you don't try anything. I'm a desperate man, and you've got my blood up." I'm smiling as I say this, but it's true. I'm more excited than I thought I'd be.

She doesn't move as I take the tape off the sleeves of her coat. I pull her into a sitting position and she lets me buckle a brand new leather cuff around each wrist. I twist her around and clip her wrists together behind her back with a big, chrome clip, then lean her back against the wall of the van. I can't read her face, not with the blindfold and the gag on, but she's stopped struggling.

Her coat's come open in the little fracas. The tight white blouse she's wearing has popped the top buttons and the tops of her breasts are visible and the line of her bra that contains them. There's a dark inviting cleavage between her tits, soft with shadow.

I look at her face, her red lips spread by the cruel gag, her eyes shrouded by the leather mask. Her chest is rising and falling with her steady breathing, the weight of her breasts threatening to burst the last buttons of her too-tight blouse. She's into it now. She understands the game we're playing. She's already dressed for the part, just as she'd told me she'd dress for our meeting, very sexy, everything designed to incite: what she called her 'play clothes'. Her legs are drawn up under her and the tops of her dark stockings just peek from beneath the hem of her black skirt. I can see the cruel bite of her garters in the top band of the stockings against her naked thighs. I may be wrong but that might just be a tremble of excitement in her lower lip.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you look like this?" I ask her, leaning over her so I can smell her perfume and excitement over the stuffy and humid car heat. "All helpless, mine to do with whatever I wish?"

I had all sorts of words prepared, nasty things about cocks and pussies, but seeing her leaning against the side of the van tied up like that, I forget all that stuff. I reach my hand out and touch her breast with the back of my knuckles, lifting it up and feeling the warmth and give of her flesh. Even through the glove I can feel her femininity, the aching loveliness of her body.

"You know I love you, baby," I say, "But tonight I don't want to think about love. Just lust. Just the way I want you, the way you make me hurt with need for you. Tonight I want to use you for my own selfish pleasure, Ashley. I want to treat you like the slut of my dreams, my own sexual toy. Now if you don't want to do this, tell me now. Tell me now and we'll stop. Just say 'no' three times. Make any noise three times and I'll stop, you understand?"

She doesn't move. I'm still breathing hard from our struggle and from tying her up, but Ashley doesn't move, doesn't make a sound.

I smile as I realize what that means.

"That's my baby!" I say, feeling a thrill from her helpless beauty, her surrender, her complicity in my fantasy. She wants it too. I pull her to me with one arm around her, she falls back against me, her hands tied behind her, and I can't resist running my hand over her body, my fingers flowing over her breasts, tracing down her stomach to the black skirt stretched tight across her thighs. I bury my face in her neck, inhaling the fragrance of her hair, feeling her pulse in the softness of her throat, and I drag my fingers claw-like up her leg, pulling at the skirt, raising the hem slowly over her thighs.

I lower my face and suck on the exposed skin of her breast, smelling her perfume. I suck it, lick it, and all the time I'm working to gather her skirt up. She must be able to feel how hot I am, because she moans and twists against me, and I realize that she's trying to resist me. That's good. Let her resist. It makes it more exciting.

I can't do anything with these fucking gloves on. I pull the glove off with my teeth, and now when I go back to her thighs I can feel the tight slickness of her stocking, and then the soft skin where it bulges slightly out above them. I can already feel her nakedness and heat. She groans and bucks, clamping her legs together, but I manage to skin the short black skirt up above her hips, exposing her panties, sapphire blue.

"God, look at you!" I whisper in her ear as we fight together. "You're skirt's up around your waist, your panties are showing. Anyone who walks by the van will see what a hot slut you are; will see how much you love being treated like this. Is that what you want? You want me to call some people over to see the hot little slut I just picked up off the street?"

She groans loudly and heaves her body up from the mattress, trying to escape my words and my hand rubbing the soft skin at the top of her legs, but I hang on to her, holding her tight as she bucks and writhes, groaning in protest behind the gag. I work my hand between her legs and she growls in frustration and shame because she can't escape. I touch her between her legs where the thin crotch of her panties protects her soft and humid sex. She's wet and she must know it, and she must know I can feel it too.

"Nice," I whisper against her throat as I screw my finger gently around against her soft and slippery panties, pushing the fabric up against her. "You're already turned on, aren't you? You like this rough stuff, just like I thought. Now open 'em up, baby. Open your legs for me. No use trying to pretend anymore. We both know you want it. I knew it as soon as I saw how you were dressed underneath your coat. Is that how a decent girl leaves the house? Dressed like a common hooker, a streetwalker?"

I love feeling her struggle, feeling her trying to resist. She's going to make me work for it, but that's okay. I like using my strength against her. I like feeling her writhe and squirm as I crush her to me, feeling the hard pebbles of her nipples pressing against me even through my sweater. Her bra's too tight anyhow, and it's very sheer, can barely contain the weight of her breasts and the tops of her tits are trying to spill out of it. I grab her blouse and just pull, ripping the buttons off and yanking it open. Her tits are stuffed into that bra, and they roll softly beneath my hand and mouth as I sink my face down into the intoxicating warmth and sweetness and suck them through her sheer fabric.

My assault on her tits startles her and she forgets momentarily and parts her knees. I grab her leg behind her thigh and pull it up, spreading her legs lewdly and she wails beneath the gag at her sudden vulnerability.

"Should we just sit here and wait for someone to come by?" I tease, holding her legs apart and caressing her through her damp panties. "Should I turn on the dome light so they can see you better, you gorgeous little piece of ass?"

She's worn out now from struggling. Her blouse is open, her tits are heaving behind that bra, her skirt is all bunched up around her waist, and her raincoat is a mess, half off, half on. I take another piece of rope and tie it between her wrists, bring it down behind her and pass it through her legs then up in front and tie it around her neck. I draw it tight so that it's snug against the crease of her sex.

"There," I said, "That's so you can get yourself off while you struggle. Now you can struggle all you want. Get yourself good and ready, baby. We've got a full night ahead of us."

I pull her coat closed and take another piece of rope. I pass it around her legs and tie her knees together, then do the same to her ankles. I lay her down on the mattress on her back, her tits standing up, heaving with her eager breathing, and even in the dimness of the dark alley I can see her nipples saluting and the pulse beating in the base of her throat. My own baby, captured and vulnerable at last, just like in my dreams.

I exit the side door of the van and take a look down the alley. A gust of rain sweeps down the street and catches me, drums on the roof of the van. There's no one around; it's too nasty out. I straighten my clothes, then climb into the driver's seat. I put the van into gear and pull out of the rain-slick street.

The motel's only about a mile away, but I drive through alleys; I go around the block a couple of times. The windows of the van are all steamed up because of the humidity inside, but I'm worried that a cop might stop me and pull me over, so I drive with extra care. Even so I want to take my time and let her to enjoy the fear for a while. I can look behind me and see her lying on the mattress, bands of light sweeping over her bound body as we pass under the streetlights. She lies still at first, but then she starts to writhe a little, and at the next light when I stop for a good look I realize that she's discovered that by arching her back and moving her hands she can work herself off against the rope between her legs. I can hear soft little whimpers and sighs emerging from between her gagged lips. By the time we reach our destination, she's panting with excitement.

I've already checked into the motel, so I just pull the van up near the back, away from the light.

"I strongly suggest that you don't do anything foolish," I say to her as I untie her knees and ankles. I unclip her hands, bring them around in front of her and clip them together again. I take off her gag and blindfold.

I wait for her to say something, to make some joke or wisecrack, but she's too into it now, excited by the part she's playing. Her eyes are smoldering, and when I try to look into them she avoids me, not wanting me to see what's there or risk ruining the mood of the game.

"Come here," I say as I close her coat snugly over her torn blouse and tie the belt in place.

I help her from the van and hand her a suitcase. "Hold this as you walk and no one will see the cuffs."

I get another suitcase from the back of the van and then take her arm, holding her just a little too tight and pulling her along to make her keep up with me, her heels clattering on the tarmac. She staggers a little as she walks but I hold her up, guide her up the stairs and pull her up to the second level where the room is.

There's someone below, coming out from his room to get something from his car. He walks under the overhang, out of the rain, until he gets to a car, then he happens to look up at us and Ashley quickly turns her head away so he won't see her face. I suppose she doesn't want any witnesses to her abduction, and that makes me smile. The man goes back to his task, dipping into the trunk of his car, perhaps getting something for a little party of his own in his room below.

"This is where we're going, love," I say as I slide the keycard into the lock. "This is where you're going to get what's coming to you. Take a good look at the world around you, Ashley, because it's not going to look the same when you get out of here. It's time we both learned just who you are underneath that coat."

I open the door and push her inside. I'd already set things up: I'd turned the heat way up so she won't get cold when she's naked, closed the drapes and turned the lights down low. The ropes are already fastened to the bed, and more sits on the desk chair, already cut to length. The whips and nipple clamps are laid out neatly on a folded towel on the dresser. She sees them and her eyes go wide, but she says nothing.

I take the suitcase from her; unclip her wrists and strip off her raincoat.

"Rob, wait..." she says, her eyes still on the whips. She laughs nervously, but the trembling in her voice is from excitement. "Wait a minute..."

But I've already pushed her up against the wall and taken her wrists in my hands, pressing my body against hers, my lips at her throat.

"What?" I demand, running my mouth along the smooth skin of her neck. "What? You want me to wait for what?"

"I just... It's just... Oh God! God!" She forgets what she's going to say when my lips find the base of her throat. I press my cock against her, letting her feel how hard she's made me.

"Tell me," I say as I press against her and kiss her throat, her face. "Tell me what you want! This is it, isn't it? Isn't this your fantasy? What you told me about?"

I know what's wrong and I know why she wants me to wait. She's embarrassed about how excited she is and it makes her very nervous. If we were back at her place now and making out on her couch I'll bet she would stop things, slow them down with an awkward little joke, or find some reason to leave the room for a minute so she could collect herself. But I don't want any little jokes now and I don't want her to collect herself. I want to push her. I want to see how hot she can get. I want her to forget making sweet and considerate love. I want her to be a whore, a vixen, a slut. I want her to scream and bite. I want her to want me as much as I want her, and I want her to admit it.

I take her face in my hands and I rape her mouth with my tongue. She stands there stunned, her hands still pressed up against the wall where I'd left them, as if she's the victim of a hold-up and she's showing me she's unarmed. But she's armed. Her body is her weapon and she makes me dizzy with desire. As I kiss her I put my thumb into her mouth and peel down her lower lip so I can kiss and suck the soft inside, laying her whole mouth open to me. I grind my cock against her as I kiss her so she can feel exactly what she's doing to me, how she makes me feel even when she does nothing at all.

"Oh my! Oh, Rob..." she remonstrates, breathless with excitement, afraid of what she's feeling. I'm like an animal on her now. She knows there's no stopping me, and she's worried that she's going to lose control as well. Her own body, beautiful and innocent, is like fuel to the carnal fire that consumes me, and she doesn't know how to stop me, or even if she wants to. One part of her needs to pull back and regain control of herself, and the other part wants to let go, so for now she's like an observer to what I'm doing to her, an innocent bystander, refusing to admit that she wants this too, still trying to get by without committing

But I won't have that.

I pull her away from the wall and lead her to the center of the room. "Stand there," I tell her. "Stand right there and don't move a muscle."

I gently pull the torn blouse from her shoulders and remove it, leaving her standing in the middle of the floor in her skirt and bra and heels. The skirt is short and tight: a teaser's skirt, and her wicked high heels make her ass thrust up and out in lewd invitation. Seeing this sweet girl dressed like a tart excites me terribly. She looks cheap, like she's selling herself. Better than that even: she looks like she's just daring me to take it from her, and now she's finding out that I will