Disclaimer: Another one of my stories that is written like a script for a drama. I'm totally against rape. The violence and violation of rape should never be inflicted on anyone. Somehow, the taboo of the milder, consensual fantasy of mock rape that is CNC excites many couples in BDSM. In the CNC scene played here, the sub is in control and can stop her "rape" at any time with her safe word. 'My Girl' gets plenty of well-deserved, loving aftercare following the scene.
Part 1 of 3
Wrestlemania
You once told me you had rape fantasies, but when I probed further you clarified: "not actually
raped
by a stranger or some date I don't want to have sex with, but
ravished
by a man I want so badly, I want hime to be rough while he fucks me insane."
Lucky me! We wanted each other so badly after a 3-month break-up that following some 'make-up sex' last week, you told me you wanted a CNC playtime--at a time and place decided by me. Your fantasy was for your man to be so crazed with lust and horny, demented desire that he ripped your clothes off in a mad frenzy before spanking, licking, and 'fucking you insane'.
You don't know it yet but tonight is the night...
I pick you up in my pickup truck. The back is filled with 1- and 5-gallon paint cans. We're off to paint a new condo I bought in a converted 4-storey warehouse. It's on the top floor, with skylights, big industrial windows and designed mostly as open-concept. The two bedrooms, a large bathroom, and an office are aligned in a row off from the 35 ft x 60 ft main room where I've just started construction of the kitchen. All rooms have 18-foot high ceilings and hardwood plank flooring that I had sanded and polyurethaned last week... A veritable playroom.
You help me carry the paint up to the condo. You grumble a bit, believing this really is a working night--painting! The neatly folded drop cloths, paint brushes and rollers were already in the room, by the front closet, completing my deception. The main room is otherwise empty and has a tremendous echo. You walk around yelling, and marvel at the sound.
While your back is to me, I open the closet and two upright 4-ft x 8-ft blue gym mats plop out and fall heavily to the floor. Whack! The loud thud and the echo startle you. You see what they are and your mind clicks on. Without instruction, you help me pull them to the middle of the room. We attach them together by the Velcro strips on the sides. You jump repeatedly on the 4-inch thick mats, now joined into an 8-ft x 8-ft playground. You admire the echoing "thump, thump" booming through the room. Then you turn to face me, with a wicked smile and bedroom eyes. You start to undress. '"No!" I command in a stern voice that echoes and fills the room. You stop dead, with your hands at your waistband button and a confused look on your face.
You are wearing old faded jeans with seams that are starting to fail and worn-through holes in the thighs and knees. They looked fashionable when new but now they show their age. Your black T-shirt with the Rolling Stones 'tongue logo' also has a few pinholes here and there, and is thinning after years of wear and laundry. "Perfect painting clothes," I had suggested.
I step onto the mat. You're standing in the center. "On your knees!" I command. You drop. I step up to you, the bulge in my pants an inch from your panting tongue. You start to unzip my jeans. "No," I command. You pout and stop, looking up at me with longing eyes. I drop the kit bag I have in my hand. I open it and dump the contents onto the mat. More booming echoes. I place a black latex hood over your head, pull your hair up through the 'pony girl' spout at the top of the hood, then zip the back of the hood tight. Your face is encircled by the open oval of the hood, which also fits very snugly around your throat. I strap a latex mask over your eyes. "Now open wide", I command. You take the red rubber ball gag with only minimal fuss. I firm up the ball gag's strap. You're excited! Your nipples are sticking out like spikes through your bra and the thin t-shirt. You are breathing quickly... lmost hyperventilating as drool drips from your wet, stoppered mouth.
"Stand up!" I order. You stand, a little wobbly. I go behind you and put you in a Full Nelson wrestling hold. My swollen cock pushes hard against your ass. You start wriggling frantically trying to escape. "No use," I whisper as I lean back and force your back into an arch. I hiss in your ear: '"Baby girl, you're my
fuck toy
tonight! You'll beg for mercy--but not mean it. You'll want me to do every dirty deed that enters my warped, demented, horny mind."
Then I force you to the ground on your hands and knees. I'm straddled over you. My arms still have you in a Full Nelson hold. You're panting heavily--slightly from fear and the struggle, mostly from excitement.
"Put your arms behind your back," I command.
You comply and I grip your wrists, then loop a rope around twice to hold them there. I reach into the pile from my upended kit pack and pull out my EMT scissors used for safe bondage and start to cut through your jeans' waistband. I make a few quick cuts. You squirm nervously and vigotously, trying to scream "NO" though the ball gag. You're blinded by the mask, not aware the EMT shears are blunt and can't cut you. Two more snips and I've cut through your waistband at the back of your jeans... then a couple snips at the back of your shirt hem. I drop the scissors.
I hold your bound hands down by your waist band so my two hands are together, thumbs touching, fingers curled tightly around your waistband, on either side of the cut. I wrench my hands apart and your jeans split with a loud "RIIIIIIIP!" down the back seam. We both pause a second, listening to the loud echo. Then I tear harder and the rip extends down the back of your left thigh. I stop and try to rip down your right leg. The center ass seam won't allow it. Damn! I grab the shears. A quick snip through, then I'm ripping your jeans' right leg right down to the jeans' leg bottom, where its hemmed edge is worn through from years of rubbing on the ground.
As I'm ripping the jeans off you, you struggle wildly and kick your legs. I can't tell if you are struggling to keep your jeans on (unlikely!) or helping get them off. In either case, I'm mad with lust and sweating and panting as hard as you are. My pounding heart has done all it can to pump my cock full of boiling blood--my cock's as big and stiff and hot as it's ever been. I feel the intense pounding beat of pulsing blood in my ears. You're driving me insane with lust!
Your perfect white ass is encased in red satin panties, wet and fragrant at the crotch. Your ass spills out from the sides of the tiny panties. Your skin is perfect: alabaster white, smooth, flawless (for now!) and jiggling from our frenzied wrestling. You're still trying to escape! Foolish girl!
I grip your ponytail extruding through the top of the latex hood and tug firmly, twisting your head slightly and down to the mat. You're on your knees, ass proudly flashing in the air. I grip the hem of your shirt at the back, where I had snipped, and wrench it hard. Your t-shirt rips up the middle. With my left hand still holding your hair, I grip the neckline and with my right hand joining in, I pull the neck hem apart, the shirt drops off around your body. I reach under and roughly grab your tits though your bra. I massage them hard in my right hand while my left hand still controls your head by gripping your ponytail like a leash. I firmly pull your head back, forcing your tits out--upfront and proud. My thumb and index finger squeeze, roll, and pluck your nipples. You're grunting, and breathing hard, saliva dripping and flying from your parted red, full lips as you enter your own frenzy of manic, demented lust. I slip my hand down between your legs, loop two fingers into the slick gusset of your panties and tug them off roughly. The force causes your legs to splay out straight behind you and you are no longer on your knees but facedown, flat on the mat. I bury my face into your ass, smelling and tasting you frantically like a pig snuffling up truffles in some forest in France...
Part 2 of 3
Echoes of Pain and Pleasure
I only stop feeding on you to deny you an orgasm. My beard is dripping with your pussy juices. I still smell your ass scent mingled with your pussy aroma on my beard...my nose was wedged into your puckered sphincter for half the time while my tongue gave your clit a working over.
You lie face down on the gym mat, panting from the struggle, panting with lust, panting with disappointment from the denied orgasm, panting with anticipation... you KNOW I have more in store for you.
I lie on top of you for a quick snuggle, my cock still in my pants but wedged into your ass crack. You wriggle with pleasure. I get up, order you to lie still. I grab four leather cuffs from my toy bag and I quickly have your ankles and wrists bound. I loop rope through the D-rings on the cuffs and soon have you stretched
tight
, spread-eagled on the mat, the ropes tied to loops on each corner of the mats.
You strain and struggle, but only succeed in lifting the corners of the mats an inch or two before the futility sets in. You stop struggling and resume panting. I massage oil onto your back, ass, and thighs, rubbing it in
hard
using long strokes. The oil enhances your beauty and will make you slippery and harder to hold in future wrestling...
Once you are fully oiled and glistening to my satisfaction, I circle the mats, admiring you from all angles. I walk slowly and deliberately. My cowboy boots echo loudly in the cavernous room. You are still blinded by the latex mask but you turn your head, instinctively trying to track where I am. I have a riding crop in my hand. I settle into a low crouch and reach out with the crop. I stroke your body length with it. You know what it is. You savor the feeling on the tip gliding along you... but you are also expecting a stinging swat that doesn't come... doesn't come... doesn't come... SNAP! The quick firm swat on your left ass cheek echoes in the room, mingling with the muffled grunt of pain and pleasure you let out. You start pulling more firmly again on your restraints.
I walk to your right side now, my bootsteps echoing loudly. Your head turns to follow. You arch your neck back in pleasure as I slip the crop under your right tit to stroke your nipple which is pushed hard into the mat. You try to arch your back to help guide the crop in, then I pull out suddenly and lay a sharp snap onto your right ass cheek. Another mixed echo from the strike and your frantic groaning response. I circle you again, four times. Soon the echoes have you a bit confused as to where I really am, as your head moves to try and track me. You must be getting dizzy. I'm admiring the two bright pink lines on your once perfectly smooth, alabaster white ass cheeks.
