Libby hummed to herself under her breath as she pushed the cart up and down the deserted aisles. She loved the relative peace of the grocery store at this time of night. Her son was asleep, and her husband was in his usual spot watching late-night cartoons. A half frown passed across her naturally full lips—cock-sucking lips Drew called them—as she replayed the events of that evening in her mind.
It had been a typical Friday night—she made dinner, he did the dishes while she put Caleb to bed, then they had sex after the boy was asleep. She couldn't really complain about the sex, or Drew. He was attractive and also very considerate. He always brought her to orgasm at least twice, with his fingers, his mouth, or his thrusting penis, before finishing himself. Their sex life had experienced the ebbs and flows typical of a couple that had been married almost ten years, though lately the ebb seemed to have unpacked its bags and taken up permanent residence in their bedroom, Libby thought. They had brought in the usual suspects to "spice" things up—lingerie (a lacy teddy for her, silk boxers for him), massage oil, and even a discreetly-packaged vibrator she ordered online—but Libby could never shake the feeling that something was wrong. No, wrong was not the right word...missing. Something was missing. She had no idea what this nebulous absent thing was, though, or where to even begin looking for it.
After their run-of-the-mill Friday night sex, Drew had given her a quick kiss, and then went off to work on deepening the ass-shaped groove in his favorite couch cushion. Libby curled up in bed with a book, but after ten minutes of reading and re-reading the same page she decided that escapism wasn't going to be effective tonight. She put the book aside, stretched out across the bed, and released a big sigh. "Is this it?" she asked herself. Had she already experienced the best sex she was ever going to have? Was the adequate love-making that she had with Drew going to be the status-quo for the rest of her life? The thought depressed her.
Libby jumped up and began to dress. She had to get out of the house, even if it was for just half an hour. That was how she wound up doing the Saturday grocery shopping at 11:50 PM on a Friday.
No one was there to greet her when she entered the sliding glass door at the front of the store. The store appeared to be deserted, but considering that there were two cars parked out front and the doors were unlocked, there must still be a couple of employees here somewhere, she thought to herself. She hurried to grab the few things she needed before the grocery store closed at midnight. Her thoughts drifted back to her feelings of sexual frustration as she walked up and down the aisles on autopilot.
Lost in an internal dialogue about the plusses and minuses of her current sex life, Libby failed to notice the tall figure approach as she bent down to retrieve a carton of eggs from the cooler, until a large hand snaked across her fact and covered her mouth. She was yanked backwards, held in place by that single muscular arm against a hard, masculine body. Libby began to cry out instinctively, but stopped when she felt a sharp point at the side of her throat, digging into her flesh.
"Don't make a sound," a deep, gritty voice breathed hotly into her ear. "Come."
He half pushed, half dragged her into the back of the store, through a maze of boxes and shelves, to an out of the way corner that could easily be overlooked unless you knew exactly where it was.
"Stand facing the wall, with your back to me and your hands behind you. Don't think about trying to look at me, or move unless I tell you to. I'll hurt you if I have to, and enjoy it, but I don't think you'll feel quite the same way about the experience." He pressed the point of the knife to the side of Libby's neck again, piercing the skin and drawing a drop of blood this time as a reminder of the consequences of disobeying.
Libby couldn't believe this was happening to her. She knew she should be shaking with fear right now, but what was about to happen to her seemed so unreal that she was numb. She felt something soft being pressed into her hands.
The gravelly voice spoke again. "It's a blindfold. Tie it around your face, tight. Make sure you can't see. I will know if your vision isn't completely obscured, and you won't like the consequences."
Libby obeyed. Her mind had started working again, at least well enough to realize two things: one, that he was deliberately modifying his voice to make it deeper and unrecognizable, meaning that he could be almost anyone; and two, that the safest option was to follow his orders completely and do whatever he instructed.
There was a loud ripping sound. The stranger's big hands latched onto her arms, pulling them roughly behind her back, bending her elbows and overlapping her forearms, then binding them together with tape. He covered her mouth and nose again with his rigid palm, pressed tightly enough to cut her breath off. His other arm wrapped around her mid-section and held her in place against him while he controlled her breathing for the space of a couple dozen seconds. Libby gasped in air when he finally released the pressure on her mouth, and he took this opportunity to push two of his thick digits in between her open lips and over her tongue. They pushed in and out of her oral passage, mimicking the sex act. She gagged from the feeling of his fingers deep within her throat. Tears gathered in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks.
The fingers were abruptly removed from her mouth and replaced with a gag. The assailant grabbed her long brown hair in his fist and pulled her along. She was extremely disoriented at this point and afraid of walking into one of the many towers of boxes, causing it to fall down and crush her, but she had no choice other than compliance. Shortly they stopped walking and Libby was pushed down to the ground, then her ankles were wrapped with more of the tight tape.
