A Gift of Stilettos

As I sit here in the middle of my bed, my satin comforter drawn up around me, my body begins to quiet its trembling. I'm not sure how long I have been here like this. My legs are cramping up, and a nice stretch feels so good. The wet spots on the bedspread cling to my skin, chilling me. I think about peeling away the sheet and bury my face in my hands, sobbing. All my fear flowing outward, away from me, freeing me at last to think about what's happened in here tonight.

As I step under the rain of warm water in my shower, allowing it to return the heat to my body, I recount in my head what went on tonight. I want to retell it the way it happened, to me......how I felt, what I did, and what my future plans are. I reach for my body sponge, unhooking it from the shower wall, and squirting a generous amount of body wash into it, soaping it up, just as I always do. I don't feel the need to scrub any harder, or longer, than I normally would.

I find this curious. Is there something wrong with me? This isn't how I have heard it told. I have always heard that rape victims cry and shower over and over, trying to wash away the experience. I do feel stunned. My life has just taken a sharp left turn without my consent. I know that no extra exfoliation is going to help me. No harsh scrubbing or douching will erase any of what's happened to me tonight. But I think perhaps relating the tale may make me feel more.....solid, whole, again.

It began as a quiet evening. It had been a wonderful, fun-filled weekend with friends. I met a man that could hold a decent conversation, has a good job, and didn't try to get into my panties on first meeting. This is unusual for me. At least in the end, most men find a way to suggest sex, but not this guy. He was intelligent, polite, well mannered, yet masculine. He wasn't ultra good looking, but that is not on my agenda anyway. I had planned on seeing him again, with the blessings of my friends, but that was not to be.

Tonight, when I kicked back on my couch to watch my favorite crime show, I was surprised to hear a knock at my door. My neighborhood is generally safe, so I took a quick peek through the small glass panes in the thick wooden door before opening it. At first I didn't recognize the man standing there. Then, as he smiled, I remembered who he was. He had moved in a few houses down not long ago. His face was honest and friendly, like a big boyscout. He was about my age, perhaps a little older, and quite an average looking man. He held up a nice little gift bag and of course, I swung the door open to greet him.

"Hi! I'm sorry to bother you ......" He smiled a bit sheepishly, though the hour wasn't too late for visitors.

"No problem. What can I do for you, Mr....?" I smiled warmly, inquiring his name and waving off his apology.

"Just call me Oliver." He grinned, disarming me at once. What a nice face and sparkling eyes. "Listen, my phone service isn't hooked up yet and my cellphone died. I can't seem to find the charger in my stuff. Do you think I could , please, use your phone? Just this once?"

I invited him in, assuring him that it would be just fine. I remember that happening to me when I moved. That charger was nowhere to be found, until it damned well wanted to be found! If it hadn't been for a kind neighbor, I wouldn't have been able to call in a personal day at work.

His phone call was short and he came in from the kitchen within sixty seconds. He was still holding the gift bag, and I was curious. I invited him to sit and have some hot tea, wanting to include him in the loop of neighbors here that rely on each other. If he seemed trustworthy enough, I'd pass a good word along to the neighborhood watch leaders. Strength in numbers, they say.

As he sat down, looking around, as people do when they come to a new home, complimenting my taste in decor, he smiled at the offered teacup. He was awkward with it, as most men are, with the small, dainty handles and delicate rims.I grinned at his effort, and he laughed. I felt instantly comfortable with him.

"I've brought you a little something, Miss Downey." He smiled and set the gift bag on the coffee table.

"Please, call me Marla." I smiled back and thanked him as I took the bag and reached inside. I pulled out a gorgeous pair of high heel shoes. I'm sure I looked shocked as my mouth hung open. It was a gift of a more intimate nature than is appropriate. I felt myself blush, and an uneasy feeling crept over my heart. I felt it pound in my chest. I was sure he could hear it. His smile became a little darker.

"Put them on, Marla." His tone was distinctly more stern. I knew this wasn't going well. I always assumed I'd know what to do in a rape situation. I always thought I'd be able to fend off an attacker. I keep in great shape, and I don't look like a target. I walk with confidence and I pay attention to my surroundings. This wasn't supposed to happen.

His tone became a bit colder as I hesitated. "Put.......on the shoes...Marla." His tone conveyed wicked intentions toward disobedience.

He kept saying my name, as if I were a child being scolded. My best survival instincts told me to play along, so I put on the shoes. These were sleek, black, shiny stilettos. I could tell he had shelled out some money on them. I wondered how he knew my size. The fit was perfect. His eyes appraised my every move, flashing fire as he breathed in deeply, looking at my shoes, slender ankles, and traveling up my shins, lingering at my knees.

"Pull your dress up over your thighs, Marla." His voice was low, whispered, but still very much in control. I did so, exposing the tight flesh of my well toned thighs, though I kept my knees pressed together."Spread your legs, Marla." And I did. I blushed as he moaned and adjusted his cock in his slacks. He sipped his tea and let his gaze linger at my pantied crotch before dragging his eyes to mine. I felt frozen, like a frightened bird under his heated glare.

"Look at you, all whorespread for me." He sipped his tea and watched me blush....watched my expressions....my eyes, my emotions. He smiled as the humiliation rolled across my face, and laughed as I felt like crawling in a hole. "Whenever I move, I make sure there's going to be a proper rapedoll for me living nearby. You are that lucky lady while I live in this neighborhood. You have been chosen for your beauty, certainly, but more. You have that slutty quality I look for in a fuckbeast."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This sweet man speaking to me like a....a...a pervy freak! He went on to explain to me how things were going to be.

"When I knock on your door, you will let me in. But before you open the door, you will slip on the fuckme shoes. Is that clear, Marla? If you fail to have on the fuckme shoes, I will punish you before I rape you. Nod if you understand me, Marla." His voice was measured and staccato when he explained about the purpose of the gift. He sipped the last of his tea and set his cup down as I nodded yes.

"Good. You have been a good girl so far tonight, Marla. Let's keep that up, shall we?" He stood and gestured, indicating that I should lead the way, to the bedroom, I supposed. He locked the front door and followed me into my room. I turned on a lamp, and he was instantly on me, pressing me up against the wall, his hands caressing roughly, his mouth hot against mine as he kissed me.

His lips crushed mine as he pressed hard, and his hands smoothed up and down my sides, arms and back. He broke the kiss to whisper something chilling. Something that echoes in my head even now.

"I'm your new boyfriend, Marla. There will be no one else for you. I will consider it cheating on your part if I find you with another man." His voice sounded so odd. I could hear the sideways nature of him just then. The disturbed side of his shiny personality had shown itself.

He backed up a step, his eyes falling to my breasts. "Take off your dress now, Marla." I was embarrassed, and I had removed my bra earlier to relax. I shook as I took the shoulder straps down and pulled each arm through, dying inside as I pulled the soft fabric down and under my big tits. I heard his breath draw in sharply. I pulled the fabric down with trembling hands, exposing my lean ribcage and concave belly, toned with hour upon hour of ab workouts each week.

I worked the dress around to unzip it before working it further off my smoothly flared hips. The dress whispered along my long, pretty legs as I let the fabric drop to the floor. I stepped from the pile of discarded protectivity, clad now only in a sheer beige thong. His hands were immediately upon my beautiful , firm breasts, mauling them, kneading the flesh, pushing it up and together, around and around, while he pinched my dusky pink nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

"I will whip these gorgeous tits bloody if you EVER try to deny me access to them, Marla." And with that threat, he began to devour them, sucking my nipples hard, moaning, squeezing, licking, and nipping gently with his teeth, tightening his lips to pluck at the silky flesh of my areolas. He seemed to enjoy watching the pink nubs stiffen with his manipulations as I kept still, with my palms flat against the wall, breaths shallow.

He reached into his pocket and drew out a small closed knife, and flicked it open with his thumb. I gasped in fear as I heard the blade click into locked position. He took note of my reaction and drew the blade menacingly across my neck.

"I won't cut my girlfriend, but I will cut a deceptive whore, Marla. Don't lie to me, and don't deny me. Ever."

He drew the blade across my tummy and smiled as it sucked in further, the flesh trying to escape harm. He cut the sides of my little thong and layed the flat of his blade against my soft cuntlips. I clung to the wall in terror, with visions of unspeakable things flashing through my mind.

"I'm glad your pussy is shaven, Marla. That will save us from having to stop and take care of that."

He closed the blade and slipped it back in his pocket. The relief I felt from that simple act was enormous. He slid his hand up into my hair, gripping it by the roots and bending me forward. He turned me to face the wall and told me to put my hands on it, and to spread my legs wide. I obeyed like a marionette. I was nothing more than his naked sex puppet on a string, complying with his every word. He cupped my velvety little pussy, freshly shaven earlier in my regular evening shower.

He ran his fingertips over my smooth, toned buttocks. "This is the position I will beat you in, Marla, should you ever give me reason to discipline you." His tone was pleasant, as if beating his "girlfriend" was a normal course of action, and the threat was not made in anger. I knew as certainly as I am Marla Downey, alive and well and now finishing up my post rape shower, that this man would hurt me, perhaps kill me, if I refused him.

"Now slide sensously onto your bed, Marla, and slither onto your back. I'm going to tie you down because I like that, not because I think you'll escape me."

I walked mechanically, strutting to the edge of the bed in the insanely high heels, and placed my hands on it, bending low and keeping my long, pretty legs straight. I let my palms slide forward on the satin until I was on my belly. I crawled further, getting my legs onto the bed, making slow movements and keeping my belly and breasts down. I let my hips raise slightly and heard him growl in lust. I rolled onto my back and silently spread myself into an X, laying still with my heart pounding.

"That was perfect, Marla. As long as I get that sort of behavior out of you, I'll be pleased and refrain from hurting you. I hope I've been clear on that." He smiled and opened the top drawer of my dresser. As expected, that's where I keep my stockings, nylons, and lingerie. He checked to see which drawer my bras and panties are kept in as well. He withdrew four sheer black stockings and bound each wrist and ankle to each bedpost. He stretched me tightly, allowing little slack. He circled my bed, tongue clucking at his work, and raking my sweet flesh with his eyes. He knew how to draw out my fear.

With a moan of heated satisfaction, he crawled onto the bed with me, caressing every curve and plane, every crevice and swell with smooth, sensual strokes.

He pulled off his own clothes unceremoniously, tossing them aside and crawled right up between my widely spread legs. I can't tell you how I felt then. I had become a bit numb, obeying his commands, keeping myself from harm. I think he must have known this. He had a solution. He was going to make me feel something. I could feel his breath, steamy hot against my bare, exposed pussy. He began to lick up the length of my slit, over and over, moistening me against my will. I could feel my body react as he continued to lick, delving deeper into my silky pink folds.

He looked up at me, smiling with triumph in his eyes. "That's my girl. Give me that honey." His nasty grin made me whimper and blush. He chuckled darkly and drove his stiffened tongue deep into my sodden little cunthole, fucking me with it, making me squirm and moan, and to my utter humiliation, causing me to flood juices onto his tongue, lips and chin. He took his time at lapping up the spilled sweetness, teasing my excited little clit with brief flicks. He knew how to make me hot, breaking down my defenses first with my nipples, now my clit, expertly suck-licked to full sensitivity.

He clamped his mouth down tight and sucked my clit up into his warm, wet mouth, bearing down to flick my clit, rapidly and unmercifully steady, until, at last, squirming, tugging at my bonds and squalling like a slut, I came, hard. He continued to tease my clit as he looked up at me, sweat-damp skin, heaving chest, belly muscles flexing as I breathe hard. His tongue tip flicked my ultra sensitive clit, causing my hips to buck as I jerked. The stockings strangled my slender ankles, and he looked back at each one, groaning in pleasure as he watched my high heels jiggle with tension, pulled taut by the black silk.

I could feel him chuckle against my soaked cunt, and I felt his level of control over me heighten. He raised up to his knees and showed me his stiff, angry prick.

"I'm gonna give it to you, Marla. I'm gonna stick it to you hard." And with that, he speared my cum-slickened cunt, filling me to the hilt with steel-hard meat in one wicked thrust. He stopped to enjoy my inner clenching, another reflex out of my control.

"So tight, my pretty girl, such a perfect fit." He dabbed at my throbbing clit, making my hips buck again and fucked me with a vengeance I've never felt before. His face contorted, his muscles flexing beneath a generous layer of body fat. He was strong, alright, despite his weight. I wouldn't call him obese, by any stretch, but he was certainly not cut or lean. His thrust was mean, and lifted me with each slam.

He planted his hands on each side of my head, holding my face forward by pinning my hair."You like that, Marla?" I nodded and whimpered as I came over and over, unable to stop. Uncontrollable orgasms swept over me as he thrust slow and hard, pounding me into submission. At last he was ready, and let his tempo quicken. My big, firm tits bounced to his viewing pleasure, and he did not neglect to look back at each high heel held tightly in black silk bonds as he geared up to cum.

He kissed me deeply, sucking my breath into his mouth and biting my lower lip. He spat two words before he let his scalding jizz empty into my cream-milking cunt. "My bitcchhhhh." Within seconds, he had pulled his cock free and straddled my pretty face, letting his wet balls sit on my mouth. He cast his eyes down upon mine, with that disturbed look.

"Lick them clean, Marla." And I did, with steady laps, my eyes glazed from my own orgasms, resentment hidden behind a pretty blush. He let his cock ooze droplets onto my cheeks, but he didn't make me suck his dick clean. Only his balls, for some reason. I couldn't possibly guess that he would be making his last "girlfriend" taste me later in the evening.

He crawled off the bed and dressed, as I lay quietly, staring at the ceiling, stealing glances over at him, hoping he won't leave me tied this way. He smiled and looked over as if he could read me. "Don't worry, baby, I'll cut you loose." He made quick work of it, slicing only once into each stocking with his sharp knife. He leaned down to kiss me, gripping one tit and squeezing hard.

"Until next time, m'lady." Was he trying to make me furious? He winked and swept out of my room. I could hear the front door click shut and I quickly drew the comforter up around me. I remembered the damn shoes and took pleasure in throwing each one against the wall. I panicked, throwing aside my sticky wrapping, and ran to make sure they weren't damaged before crawling back inside the blanket. I gathered myself slowly before making my way to the shower.

What am I going to do? I comb through my freshly shampooed hair and moisturize my smooth skin. I pad back into my room and pick up the pair of stilettos, examining them as I walk to the front door. Carefully, gently, I place them beside the threshold, ready for their next use.