"So are we going to my place or yours?" A man about the age of twenty-nine asked his female date.
"I really need to get to sleep," the young lady replied, sighing. "I have school in the morning."
The twenty-two year old, whose name was Farrah Jones, was in law school. The man, who went by the name of Simon Clare, smiled at his girlfriend. "It's okay, babe. I understand," he told her, getting out of his seat. "And I got the check, don't worry," he winked.
They exited the restaurant and headed to Simon's car. He opened the door for her.
Farrah loved Simon with all her heart. He was passionate, kind, caring, considerate, and the sweetest man she had ever met. There was just one problem – the sex. She liked it rough. She didn't like to be 'in charge.' Actually, she fully enjoyed being completely helpless.
But Simon was the shy, more reserved type. He usually let Farrah lead. She tried countless times to get him to take more control; but it seemed as if he just couldn't. Farrah had almost learned to accept it in a way.
Simon drove her to her apartment and walked the girl to the door to her apartment. "A rose for my sweet," Simon said, handing a rose to Farrah.
For as long as she could remember, on every date they went on, he gave her a rose. They had been dating awhile too, since she was about eighteen. Farrah always thought it was the sweetest thing. "Thanks, love," Farrah smiled, meeting Simon for a kiss.
They bid their goodnights and Farrah walked into her apartment, inhaling the sweet scent of the flower. She put it in a vase with three other roses already in it.
Heading into her room, Farrah slipped out of the slinky red dress she had on and removed her black pumps. She sat on the edge of her bed and laid back letting the cool San Franciscan air tickle her skin.
She turned on the dim light in her room and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She always thought she was rather pretty. Her facial features were soft and her smile lit up the room. Her eyes were a golden brown, the color of honey. Her hair was black and straight. She kept it cut midway down her back. Her breasts were rather large for her small, petite figure. She wore about a C and was only 5'5". Her skin was smooth and soft. Farrah's long legs were, in her opinion, her best feature. Her butt was small, but cute.
Starting to feel the goose bumps forming, she pulled on a pair of pajama pants and one of Simon's t-shirts. Having just taken it from him recently, she breathed in his invigorating scent and smiled to herself.
Exiting her bedroom, she wandered into the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. Wine was definitely Farrah's weakness. Suddenly, she heard a noise. She set the wine down on the counter and turned around. The house was pitch black, except for the dim light coming from her open bedroom door. At times, the young woman got nervous living alone. The stories about break-ins scared her.
Farrah's heart was beating quite loudly as she crept toward the front door, where she thought the noise had come from. She said a quick prayer, hoping no one was there. Breathing heavily, the female peeked around the corner and was relieved that it was empty.
She exhaled loudly. "Damnit, Farrah. Calm down. You're going to drive yourself crazy," she said to herself, shaking her head.
Then, seconds later, a hand reached out from behind her and covered her mouth. Farrah's eyes widened and she began to try to scream, to no avail. She thrashed around trying to break free.
She felt hot breath on her ear. "If you don't stop moving around, you'll regret it," a voice growled in her ear. Farrah didn't know what to do. He could kill her if she didn't stop... or he could kill her if she did. Then again, perhaps he wasn't going to kill her. She whimpered softly.
"There, there my pet," the mystery man cooed, petting Farrah's soft black locks. "It's okay, my dear. I will take care of you," he reassured her, making sure he was standing behind her so that she couldn't see his face. "All you have to do it... well... whatever I say and you will be perfectly fine."
Farrah was in survival mode. Call it gullible, call it stupid; she listened. The girl remained calm and took a deep breath. She could feel her body shaking from fear.
"I'm going to put a blindfold on so you can't see me. We wouldn't want that, now would we?" he laughed softly, wrapped a piece of cloth around her eyes and tying it behind her head. "And I wouldn't suggest trying to take it off," he added firmly.
The guy, still standing behind her, put his hand on her hips and slid them up her stomach under her shirt. "You are so damn sexy," he purred into her ear.
How he said it, with such... gentleness puzzled Farrah. It also gave her a tingly feeling.
He nudged her forward a bit, trying to get her to start walking. "This way," he said, guiding her into her bedroom. She knew this from the slight bit of light she was able to make out.
The man cleared his throat and Farrah heard him rummaging around; perhaps looking for something. "Now, my love. The fun starts," he said in a husky voice, his voice suddenly changing. In one swift motion, he pushed Farrah back onto her bed and handcuffed her wrists to the headboard.
She let out a little whimper again as the cold metal came in contact with her skin. A soft hand ran across her face. The touch almost felt... familiar in a way. "If you try to kick me, you will regret it," The stranger told Farrah, making her forget about her previous thought. "Do you understand?"
She nodded slowly. Having the blindfold on was making the young woman nervous. She could hear so many things; but didn't know where they were coming from. She felt so vulnerable and nervous.
Farrah tried to remember where she put her cell phone. She thought it was on her night stand. But since she couldn't see anything, it would make it virtually impossible to get it; even if it was there.
Interrupting her thoughts, her bed creaked. Was he getting on the bed? She could sense that someone was kneeling over her.
"I am going to have my way with you," the man said. "I will do whatever I want; wherever and whenever I want and as rough as I want," he said adamantly. "Do you understand?"
She nodded again. For some reason, his words had excited her a bit.
Farrah felt his hands on her hips. He slid them up to just to the side of her breasts, exposing her stomach to the chill of the air. He slid the tips of his fingers over her stomach.
Farrah's breathing quickening; both from the fright and the excitement his touches caused her. Her chest rose and fell, noticeably.
The man bent down and she could feel his hot breath which was tickling her stomach. He began to plant warm, wet kisses on her torso.
"I just want to lick you all over. You are so damn delicious," he growled softly, licking her stomach which caused her to shudder.
The man reached back and grabbed a knife, unknown to Farrah. He began to cut the material of the t-shirt she had on. When Farrah heard it ripping, she gasped realizing what he was doing. She held her breath, trying not to move in case it accidentally slipped.
Her eyes were closed under the blindfold, trying to keep her body still. After he pulled the t-shirt off, Farrah exhaled, relieved.
"Mmm," the man said licking his lips at the sight of Farrah's breasts. "Your tits are nice," he complimented, grabbing the right one and squeezing it roughly.
He scooted up and dipped his head and kissed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue. He bit it slightly, as well. He moved from her mouth to her cheek and then her ear.
