She heard their laughter coming from the next room, but she couldn't make out their words. She wondered what they were laughing about. A feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach led her to believe that they were devising some sort of humiliation for her. How could she have been so stupid? What had begun as an exciting romp with a handsome stranger had become something completely different. And now, she was truly afraid. As she sat, waiting, not deceived by this quiet before the storm, she let her mind wander through the events which had led up to her current predicament.
It was Friday night, and she was preparing to go out with one of her girlfriends. They were going to one of their regular bars where the drinks were cheap, the music was great, and the men were hot! She had been feeling especially frisky as she dressed. She chose a very short black leather skirt which didn't even cover the black lace garter holding up her silky black stockings. The black lace g-string always made her feel incredible, and the bottom half of her outfit was completed with a pair of knee high "come fuck me" boots made of black leather. Her blouse did little to conceal the black lace bra she wore beneath its creamy sheerness. She left the top few buttons open and the blouse revealed just enough of her incredibly firm, round breasts.
Her brown hair was pulled up and back from her face, but fell in loose silky curls down her back. Red lipstick accentuated her make-up, and matched the colour of her perfectly manicured nails. With a quick dab of her deliciously musky perfume she was ready. But just as she was going out the door, her phone rang. Her friend was calling to cancel. Shit. And she'd really wanted to go out tonight.
Now, sitting bound and blindfolded in a rigid chair, she was wishing she had changed her mind. Instead, she had decided to go to the bar alone. After all, she knew enough people there that surely she would run into some friends.
As fate would have it, she didn't know anyone there. But once she'd arrived, that wasn't enough to keep her from having a good time. She headed to the bar first, watching the people around her and enjoying the open stares of men and women alike. She ordered a gin and 7-Up, short, and sucked it back in one swallow. In response to her smile, the bartender replaced the now empty glass with another. This one she drank more slowly, letting her eyes scan the room until she found what she was looking for. With a quick swallow she finished her drink, set her glass on the bar, and pushed through the crowd until she came face-to-face with him.
He was gorgeous. About four inches taller than her, and maybe a few years older. His leather pants stretched across a tight ass, and his black shirt was open at the neck revealing a few course dark hairs curled against the rippling muscles of his chest. As she stepped in front of him, she gave him a moment to take her in. She watched his eyes travel along her body, pausing at the usual places - her breasts, her garters, her boots. Then she reached up, placed her hand along the back of his neck, and as she drew his head towards her she whispered, "I'm going to make you mine." just before she kissed him. She felt his lips part to accept her tongue which she shoved into his mouth as she explored, and probed him. She felt him push up against her, and noticed the bulge newly created in his pants.
She broke off the kiss and looked up at him. "I want you to come home with me. Now." she said. It thrilled her that he hesitated, clearly off-balance from her sudden and aggressive approach. "Uh..." he stammered, "I'm not sure I'm real comfortable with that. Maybe we could go to my place instead?" She pretended to think about it for a moment. What really went through her mind was how perfect he was. He would be a pleasure to enslave. Little did she know that he was thinking the same thing about her.
She agreed to his place, but insisted on driving, and soon they were on their way. Very little was said in the car. They exchanged names and he gave her directions. She imagined that he sat and pondered where this might lead. He imagined the look on her face when he tore the obviously expensive blouse away from her body. They were both smiling as they arrived.
"I'm on the fifteenth floor." he said. The penthouse. She was impressed. She was even more impressed when he opened the door to reveal an incredibly spacious apartment obviously furnished and decorated with only the absolute finest. She didn't have a chance to notice much more than that because suddenly her arms were grabbed and pinned behind her back and hands were firmly clasped over her eyes and her mouth. As she realized that there was no way he could be doing this alone, she began to scream, and kick. Strong hands grabbed her feet, and despite her struggles she could not overpower her captors.
There was a chair in the middle of the room they entered, and they sat her on it clamping down first her ankles, then her wrists. The seat of the chair only extended a couple of inches, and she felt utterly vulnerable, aware of how easy it would be to access every inch of her body. All the hands released her except those covering her mouth and eyes. A blindfold was tied tightly across her eyes. She jumped as a voice began to whisper in her ear: "I'm going to take my hand away now. If you scream, there will be consequences. Do you understand?" She nodded, and the hand was removed. She took a gasping breath then opened her mouth to scream. Before the sound passed her lips someone's hand crashed across her cheek, stunning her to silence. Her cheek burned where the hand had struck and her head was wrenched backward as once again her lips were covered by the palm of a male hand.
"Stupid bitch." said the voice. Then, "Fine. We'll do it your way." The hand forced open her mouth and a ball was forced between her teeth. She felt her jaw stretch as the ball gag was buckled tightly behind her head. This is where her true fear had begun, and there was no escape in sight. She heard herself whimper, and someone snickered. "Tonight," he said, "you will learn humility." With those words, a hand reached up under her skirt and tore the black lace g-string from her body. Again she whimpered as the fabric cut into her skin before ripping, and she struggled futily against her bonds. She was crying now as the shackles bit into her wrists.
"Strap her head back," she heard. As hands began pulling her head back, she struggled more wildly, thrashing her head back and forth, her cries muffled by the ball gag. She felt a strap go around her neck and stopped her struggling as it was pulled tight, making breathing difficult. "I suggest you calm down." he said. "Struggling will not do you any good. Besides that, this chair has more straps on it, and if you continue, we will bind your chest. And if you still continue, we will bind your breasts which is not particularly comfortable."
She did stop struggling. She felt her heart pounding in her chest, but calmed herself until her breathing eased, and the strap around her throat became a mere discomfort.
She whimpered again as she felt a hand begin to finger her pussy, which was now exposed between her widely spread and bound legs. She could tell she was already wet. Despite her fear, or maybe because of it, her body had turned on and she felt the shivering sensations of pleasure course through her against her will. The fingers continued their work, rubbing her pussy, fingering her clit, and then more hands began squeezing her breasts through her blouse. They squeezed hard, and she tried to wince away from their touch, but her bindings have her no leeway. She felt her breath come faster. Her eyes watered with the pain of the hands clinging to her breasts like clamps being screwed tighter and tighter. The fingers at her pussy kept moving. She felt fingertips tease her opening, but they would not go into her. Then the steady pressure of a thumb on her clit as his fingers played around her hole. She moaned, despite herself, and as she did, everything stopped. She almost cried again, as she waited and the silence grew longer. She started to wonder if she was alone. She began to methodically test her bindings. Just as she was becoming bolder, almost fighting the restraints, she realized that indeed, she was not alone.
Suddenly her blouse was torn open, she heard the buttons pop like a quick burst from a b-b gun. Then she felt something cold run from her naval, up her stomach, to her bra. She could feel the tip trace along her skin and she realized that it was scissors, as she heard the blades snip through the small piece of fabric which held her firm breasts in place. She felt them spring free as her bra was severed. Before she could recover from the shock of the scissors against her skin, she felt a vibrator shoved into her and turned on.
