Special thanks to my editor, Etaski, whose patience and pointers have helped knock a lot of rough edges off this story.
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I consider myself to be well adjusted. I mean I dated in high school, made out in cars, lost my virginity to a boy under the bleachers at our school's football field one night. I experimented in college a little, though before my years there ended I did my more "interesting" explorations of my sexuality elsewhere. I had the money by that time to be able to leave my last class on a Friday afternoon and be in an exotic location somewhere else in the world in a matter of hours. I used my new wealth to set stages for myself, but otherwise kept that part of my life very much below the radar. No, I'm not going to discuss how I acquired money, but feel free to join my friends in speculation. It was done legally, quickly, and has absolutely nothing to do with this story. All that matters here is the freedom it grants me.
Anyway, my parents were good to me and got on well with each other. I was never abused or raped by anyone. My sex life was pretty "standard" at least until I was 21 or so. I am intelligent, popular with men, get along well with women... There really isn't anything extraordinary that I can point to and say, "That is why I do what I do", or "This event corrupted my thinking".
I think I'm more or less normal. I even have, and enjoy, regular though casual relationships with regular guys and, sometimes, a girl although I consider myself heterosexual. Being with a woman can be extremely exciting, and some of my best and strongest orgasms have been elicited by the fairer sex. Yet no matter how good it is, I still feel something is missing. I like dicks, but it is more than that. Well, let me put it bluntly. Forgive my language, but I just don't feel completely satisfied until I have been fucked. I use the word deliberately because, again, while I enjoy and prefer men, and being made love to is a wonderful experience (feeling a man cum inside me often triggers my own orgasm), I just don't feel totally satisfied unless I get fucked. Taken, used, dominated. Pick a verb.
It is the primal, selfish behavior of a man using my body for his gratification that truly lights my candle. The juxtaposition of having such power as to be able to strip a man so completely of his civilized demeanor, to ignite such raw hunger in his eyes for my body, and yet at once to be so utterly powerless to that hunger I caused, to be overwhelmed by his strength, his hunger, his need. To be taken. Used. Some will say that is degrading, and perhaps it is. Yet it is so pure of motive, so honest. Then I truly feel like a woman. Powerful and powerless. Master manipulator of men; puppet to male whim. Intelligent, sophisticated woman; sex object and receptacle of men's seed and need.
The first part on its own is nice but unfulfilling. The second part in isolation is cheap and dirty and is also not satisfying. But get both the wonderful and the dirty in perfect tension; ah now there I found my true release.
I am sorry, I'm waffling. I guess I am nervous relating such personal details. Let me get on with telling you how I first came to experience that wonderful "perfect tension".
For some time I have sought ideas that might catch my interest and provide the right mix of control and submission I was seeking. I read erotic stories about women exposing themselves in various ways, and various levels of, shall we say, participation by the voyeur, and found myself excited by the things I was reading. I felt driven to explore and try to define what I was looking for, what I needed, and reading these stories certainly caused a tingle between my legs, so I resolved to try it and see what I could learn about myself.
I can afford to travel, and I never "poop in my backyard" as the saying goes, so I started my preparations by getting on the internet and looking at weather around the country. Seriously! I wanted fair weather and moderate temperatures so I could walk around dressed in the clothes I hand in mind without freezing or having to lug a heavy jacket around. And you really don't want to walk on ice with high heels. Well, it was too warm at the time to find ice on the ground unless I went up into Canada, but there were plenty of places experiencing low temperatures and high winds. I prefer to be nude under my dresses when practical, so walking across a windy parking lot with my arms loaded is not a great idea.
Anyway, I picked a city (it is not important to my story which one I chose), bought a ticket, booked a hotel and a rental (a humble Monte Carlo), then packed toiletries and minimal, practical travel clothes. I had half-formed ideas about what clothing I'd use, and the variations were considerable depending how my thoughts were flowing. I had fantasized about flashing before, and some of the more extreme cases required nothing more than a jacket and shoes, but also I pictured myself in total slut-wear like crotchless panties, latex micro-mini, skin tight see thru body suit; you get the idea. I hadn't decided what approach I'd take yet, and fantasizing about something like this and actually doing it are two very different things, so I figured I'd wait till inspiration struck and then simply go buy whatever outfits would work.
I had a lot of time to kill until my flight, several hours in fact, so I decided some exercise was in order. I am in great shape, but it takes work to stay that way, so... I have been doing martial arts since I was perhaps six years old, thanks to my Dad who thought it was cute. Well, I liked it, so as I got older, I stuck with it. It helped keep me fit and flexible. And while I didn't think I could pull a Bruce Lee on a roomful of men, I did figure I had a good shot at taking down one, maybe two average guys if I ever got assaulted. Anyway, I considered running through some routines, but I decided to go for a jog first and see how I was feeling when I got back.
Decision made, I headed for my bedroom to change. I stripped down and tossed everything into a hamper then looked at myself in my full length mirror. I liked what I saw. My black hair had a healthy sheen, and its waves were full and long. My breasts were firm and, while I know some men like much bigger ones than my modest Cs, I had never had any complaints about my endowments. My waist was shapely with soft curves, and my belly was almost totally flat. My butt and thighs were nicely toned with not the slightest hint of dimpling. While turned to see my butt, I lifted up on my toes to flex my calves and was rewarded with seeing the muscle jump into the shape that so caught men's eyes. I followed the flow down as my legs tapered into my delicate ankles which looked so sexy captured by the strap of a good pair of high heels. I like my men to be taller than me for the most part, and adding 4" heels to my 5' 7" frame could make that difficult, but I really liked my legs and wouldn't change a thing even if I could. Panning back up, I looked myself in the eye. My amber, nearly gold eyes stared back at me. I knew my eyes were captivating to many men (at least, those who looked at me long enough to get to that part of my body), and combined with my hint of darker skin and thick, raven hair, gave me an exotic look I was very happy to have been blessed with.
I turned to fully face the mirror again, and my gaze settled on my crotch. I changed my pubic hairstyle from time to time, though I hadn't let it grow wild since the first time I took scissors and razor to it. Sometimes clean shaved, sometimes just a strip on my mons, and sometimes, like now, neatly trimmed to frame my sex without obscuring it. My labia minora reach about to the same level as my majora, so standing unaroused the crinkled edges of my lips were just visible. As I looked at myself, I wondered whether to leave it as it was, or maybe shave it clean. I chose to postpone that decision for now.
Done with my self-inspection, I grabbed a scrunchy and whipped my mane of hair into a quick ponytail, then jumped in the shower. Washing then rinsing quickly, I toweled off then walked to my dresser and pulled open the drawer with my exercise outfits. I chose a white sports bra, and pulled out a sea green, full bottomed, french-cut leotard with short sleeves and pulled that on too. I grabbed a pair of white ankle socks and got my runners. Sitting on the corner of my bed I dressed quickly. Last I grabbed a little pouch with an elastic loop that fit snugly over my arm, put my iPod and house key into it, and slipped it into place on my left arm. I put the ear buds in, then fed enough of their cord under the collar of my leotard, and out the short sleeve, to reach and plug into the iPod, leaving the excess cordage to dangle around my back. I hit play and headed for the door.
Once on the street, the sun was warm on my face as I walked briskly about 200 feet to the corner, saw no traffic, and crossed to the adjacent corner where began an enormous park. I mean the thing was huge, almost like a nature reserve with paths running everywhere. I wouldn't know an acre if it bit me on the ass, so I can't relate the size that way, but you could lose yourself in the vast areas of trees, ponds, and gentle hills. If it helps, I am a very fast jogger; I almost never get passed (except briefly by some guy trying to show off). I figure I'm close to nine, maybe even ten mph, and it takes me just over 35 minutes to get all the way around the perimeter of the park. So that gives you, what, 5 miles? Ballpark of one and half square miles. There you go; "she's hot and smart too."
I did some fast warm up and stretching routines, then took off to do my circuit. I quickly settled into my groove, and the grass (I don't like running on the concrete path) was zipping by. I caught a flowery fragrance, and noticed a bed of little six-pointed flowers, cobalt blue petals with little yellow centers. For a while, I was thoroughly enjoying ACDC belting out Back in Black, but my thoughts kept drifting to my plans for the next several days. Thoughts of ways to indulge the exhibitionistic drive I have were not jelling well with my music, so I turned it off and pulled out the buds. Turned out to be an important action.
I had covered the first side of the park and made my first left turn when I stopped my music. I was about halfway down that side when I heard... Well, I thought I heard a woman scream. I came to a halt and listened, but for a long time all I could hear was traffic, birds, and my own blood rushing through my body. As I caught my breath, I was able to quiet down and listen better, but still I heard no repeat of the noise. I had just decided my ears were playing tricks with me when I caught another high pitched squeal that was unmistakably cut off in mid-utterance. Certain a woman was in distress somewhere in the thick grove of trees nearby, I agonized over what to do. My first thought was to summon the police to investigate, but I did not have my cell, and a frantic sweep of the surrounding area, streets, and nearby car park revealed no squad cars.
Torn with indecision, I knew I couldn't walk away, so I gathered my courage and headed for the trees. Like I said, I know various martial arts, but I harbored no illusions about being some kind of super hero. I was quite aware that there were men against whom my skills would mean little, and I had no idea how many might be assaulting that woman. In hindsight, I think I was being exceptionally brave. Stupid, but very brave.
As I got closer to the grove, I could more often hear quieter sounds, and occasionally more strained exclamations of a woman who was being silenced. My heart was now hammering through fear as I tried to move quickly but without too much sound towards the noises. Soon I knew I was close, and could see a thick patch of bushes and undergrowth which appeared to be the source of the noises. Creeping forward, I tried to find a path through the leafy barrier, when I found a tiny opening through which I spotted a woman on the ground. I could only see her head, but it was enough to see she was moving violently, was trying to call out, and was being muffled by an obviously male hand. It was also clear by the sudden jerky motions of her head that someone was ruthlessly fucking her.
Shit, I thought, what do I do?
