Exactly a week had passed since I first met Gina. After losing a bet in a poker game, I had wandered into the homeless encampment on a dare to buy some weed. Gina, a resident of the tent city encampment, had identified me as an easy mark and lured me into her tent, intending to hold me hostage and make some fast cash. When she had tricked me into closing my eyes long enough to snap handcuffs on my wrists, we both had been surprised to discover we were inexplicably turned on by the perverse intimacy of our impromptu power exchange. The hour that had followed found me tied up and stripped naked on the floor of her tent, forced to orgasm in her hands, my mouth used profanely for her pleasure. Though she had drained my wallet as penance for my helpless sins before sending me on my bewildered way, she had told me she expected to see me again, as if our brief interaction had been merely a vanilla first date.
Thus I found myself, heart racing, nervously striding back into the tent city a week later, still wondering if I had imagined the whole thing. Would she still be there? Now knowing what might happen, would I find the same ecstasy I had experienced before? Was I in any less danger than I had been the week previous? I had to find out though. It was an itch that refused to go unscratched.
I didn't immediately recall where exactly I had first seen Gina in our previous encounter, and as I walked I began to worry that either I wouldn't be able to find her, or she would be gone, having moved on to the next neighborhood or city with no more thought for me than any other clueless middle-aged guy she might come across.
Then I saw her, as my long strides took me down the riverwalk, sitting at a picnic table watching me, eerily similar to how our last encounter had ended. How long had she been watching me? I altered my course to approach where she was sitting, and she gave me that same familiar wry smile. "I've been waiting for you a whole week, what the fuck is wrong with you?" She said, standing up.
I stopped a few feet from her and began to splutter out a reply, but she talked over me, making obvious the rhetorical nature of her question. "Well you can't just show up here willy-nilly expecting to pick up where we left off, like I'm just sitting here all day waiting for Kenny to come back." Her words tore through me, first eliciting despair over her apparent rejection my return, then glimmer of joy that she remembered my name, and finally relief with the realization that her tone belied at least some amount of irony.
"Go away," she said dismissively, and my heart sank. She paused, looking into my eyes with with that soul-stealing gaze she had used so effectively to disarm me just a week ago. Then she continued slowly and deliberately, "and come back in an hour with everything you brought last time."
Elation filled me as my brain, slowed by the whiplash of adrenaline and relief, parsed her words. I thought I knew exactly what she meant by "everything you brought last time" referring to the thick wad of cash I had stuffed in my wallet, but maybe she also meant my quirky capacity to be dominated, and be aroused by it. I nodded, turning back and walking out of the tent city to kill an hour.
As I strolled aimlessly around the city streets surrounding the encampment, my mind rolled through theories of what she might be doing. It was not unreasonable for her to take some time to prepare for whatever might happen next. As I remembered how she had been a little grimy and raw smelling in our previous encounter, it occurred to me that she might be going somewhere to shower. I pictured Gina's thin, muscular frame, tan skin and dirty-blond hair taking a cold shower, washing her strong arms and large round breasts. All of a sudden I was shoving my hands into my into my pockets to disguise a growing hard-on.
The minutes passed slowly, but I forced myself not to return a second earlier than I had been told. As I walked back into the encampment exactly an hour later, I felt slightly more at ease than I had earlier. Thought it was still winter, the air was warmer today than it had been the week previous, and the slanted afternoon sunlight gave an air of tranquility that seemed at odds with the languishing poverty and desolation of the tent city.
Once again I didn't see Gina until I was in right front of her. How did she keep doing that? She had changed her outfit, perhaps confirming my theory that she had used the time to shower, though it wasn't obvious. She was wearing the same type of athletic shirt she had worn the previous week, smooth white material with green accents, tight across her chest. Instead of the leggings she had been wearing the previous week, she had on pink athletic shorts that might have been for biking or running. With her tight pony tail and running shoes, her look was that of a woman on her way to the gym. Though warm for a winter afternoon, it was still too cold for the shorts and t-shirt she was wearing, and the smooth fabric of her tight shirt stretched across her chest was all perfect curves except for the two barely perceptible bumps in the middle each breast.
She smiled slightly and raised an amused eyebrow, saying "Got that bulge in your pants again Kenny, gotta be careful or someone's going to take advantage of you!" She said this more loudly than seemed appropriate, and I became aware that several other people were milling about, easily within earshot. She always seemed to know exactly what to say, and how to say it, to simultaneously thrill and terrify me. I knew she was teasing me, as she had the previous week, not about my semi-hard cock but about my wallet, visible in the front pocket of my pants.
"Well, step into my office," Gina said, just like she had as our encounter had taken its strange turn the previous week. She grabbed my arm with jovial familiarity, but just a little more force than was strictly needed, and guided me to the open entrance of her tent.
I bent my head down and stepped inside her tent, and just as I was about to stand as straight as the tent would allow, I felt her pulling my arm downward. The downward pressure on my arm grew as she maneuvered me inside the tent, and it didn't take me long to realize she wanted me to kneel. Once I was on my knees, she whispered, "Good boy, Kenny" and turned to zip the tent door closed. With that done, she turned and stepped back toward me, standing tantalizingly close as she looked down at me. Taking in my surroundings, I noticed the same tidy stack of belongings against one wall of the tent, but this time there was no sleeping bag across the floor, just the green nylon of the tent floor.
With the tent door zipped closed, the two of us inside, I already began to feel as if I were captive, trapped in Gina's world, so far from my own comfort zone. After a moment's pause, she put her hands on the back of my head and pulled my face into her. On my knees in front of her, my lips and nose came up against the place on her abdomen where the bottom of her shirt overlapped the top of her shorts, accentuating the height difference between us. She took a long breath, holding my face firmly against her, finally saying "You came back for more, you sick little fuck. How pathetic is that?" A gentle laugh took some of the sting out of the insult, as if she were admonishing a playful pet. Then she mused, "I've had a week to think about what fun I could have with you. You're in big trouble, Kenny." I felt the satiny fabric of her shirt against my face, and the toned muscles underneath, and my cock, already hard from the immediate return to intimacy, strained against my pants.
Gina stepped away, walking around behind me, and pushing hard on my back so that I fell forward on to my stomach. She immediately dropped on me, straddling my butt. She grabbed my hands from my sides and pulled them behind my back. As she reached to her side to get what must have been a piece of rope, my fingers inadvertently came in contact with the warm crotch of her shorts. She reacted to this by pushing her weight down on me, trapping my fingers temporarily under her. I felt the rough rope go around my wrists, and she began a process of looping the rope around one wrist, then the other with a well-practiced agility, finally tying the rope off in first one knot, then one more. Her hands still on my bound wrists, she leaned over me so that her mouth was just behind my ear and breathed, "Got you."
