So I was just lying here surfing facebook and the net, ignoring my want for something since a certain someone left me hanging. It was getting better, but then my traitorous mind started drifting back to how it felt to have your tongue on my clit, your fingers inside me, how utterly satisfying it was, and I started trying to remember having sex with you, and how that felt... Yea. I was majorly turned on. I couldn't think of anything to watch, I was like just throbbing with need and desire, I was a little frustrated with you for leaving. So I just let my mind wander until it found something to turn me on...
So it wandered for a bit, and then I remembered your original request. To rape me, remember? And I started thinking about that, about me standing on a street corner, wearing a little white flower dress with a black sash around the middle, my hair in pigtails, as I waited for the always-late bus. I was paranoid jumping at every rustle or noise, it all seemed out of place in the still, warm night. I jumped when I heard a noise, heart racing as I spun around to investigate. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized it was just a stupid cat. Before I could react, an arm wrapped around my waist and another cupped over my mouth preventing me from screaming. I blacked out. This idea started turning me on, I was squirming a little, so I continued with it.
So then I wake up, lying on a bed. My hands are stretched out straight beside me, bound with restraints. My legs are bent at the knee and spread wide, also bound so that I can't move them. Duct tape is wrapped around my head, covering my mouth I assume to prevent me from screaming... Too loudly. I start struggling against the restraints, my screams and cries for help muffled by the offensive tape.
My legs started squirming as the pulsing in my pussy got stronger. I reached a hand down and started rubbing myself lightly over the material of my jeans.
I see you come into the room from some open doorway, a grin on your face as you looked me over like you wanted to devour me.
"Delicious," you mutter, as you wander closer to me. You reach out a hand to touch my face but I recoil. You slap me lightly on the cheek and tell me to behave, or it will be worse. Scared, I obey. You run your hand down my face, then my neck. You move it slowly over my chest, and then stop. With and evil grin, you push the top of my dress down, exposing my strapless, lacey black bra. You look at me, intrigued.
"Black and lace? Surprising. And here I thought you looked so innocent... No matter. This needs to be removed anyways." You pull out a pocketknife from your back pocket, and my eyes widen in fear. Tears start streaming down my face. I feel the dull edge of the cool metal against my skin as you cut through the fabric of my bra, exposing my breasts.
"That's better," you state, kneading them greedily with your hands. I look away, unable to watch.
I start rubbing myself harder, wanting to feel more.
You lean down and suck my nipple into your mouth, biting it and squeezing it. I let out a little cry of pain, and you look at me.