-Don't bother locking the door when you leave darling, I need to go to the shop.
-OK sweet. I'll be back about five.
A loving embrace and he was gone, hurrying to catch the bus into town. She knew the loss of parting, but also the welling anticipatory pleasure of a day on her own. There was plenty to do. She sat down to write an email to her friend before going out for a few groceries. Then it would be time to really get her head into the paper for the conference.
These past few weeks they'd been closer than ever before, the relaxed natural condition of two beings fusing into something greater than the sum of the parts. She drew strength from this, knowing it would transform her paper into the most powerful thing she'd ever written. But the emptiness of the parting lingered. She was mid-cycle and horny. There hadn't been time this morning, with him predictably lying asleep until the very last minute before rushing to get himself ready for his meeting. And he'd promised...
She sought to assuage the gnawing in her by complaining lightly in the email to her friend, dropping hints about how she felt. The coy sharing only intensified the problem. She wanted relief. She hit the send button and searched redtube for the video she needed. Not something she did often, but needs must. She was still in nightie and dressing gown. The video was good: exactly what she wanted, hot and raw, and she erupted in minutes to the interplay of sounds, images, and her hand between her thighs. Blinded by the intensity to the slight movement outside the window.
She sat back panting, aware that both nightclothes and chair were drenched. Inhaled the power of her own aroma. Thought about the shopping. But now that her body was calmer, the words of the paper she had to write were forming in her head. She opened the document.
A thousand words later she paused. Didn't want to stop, adrenalin driving the words from her fingertips. But she needed coffee.
She was filling the kettle in the kitchen when something flashed before her. The kettle fell with a clatter into the sink as rope cinched her arms to her torso. She kicked backwards, pure reflex, heard a grunt. Unknown teeth sank into her earlobe.
-You move when I tell you. Any more of that and I bite this off.
She'd thought she had high tolerance for pain, but this was no play. The teeth closed fractionally and she screamed. The agony intensified when the mouth left her ear. She slumped forward against the rope. A mask was fastened over her face and harshly buckled in a tangle in her hair. Agony. Her head stopped working. She tried a few deep breaths in an attempt to compose herself, focus her mind. Fingers dug intently under the skimpy covering, on her breasts. A stab of searing pain as something bit into a nipple. Then another. Blackness.
Her eyes blinked open to the throbbing in her nipples, but the unbearable pain had abated. She was on her back on the bed, felt rope chafing wrists and ankles when she tried to move. There was a presence through the blackness and silence. Her brain was alive to her circumstance, aware with surprise that she still wore her sleepwear.
Speak: she had to find words, had to know:
-What do you want?
-Many things.
She felt a hand slide up her calf, soft. It might even have been pleasurable in another situation. Not a casual movement, as it continued above her knee, under the flimsy nightie. She accepted the inevitable, drew a deep breath:
-There are condoms in the dresser drawer, top right. Please.
-I didn't say that fucking you was one of the things I want.
The fingertips stroked her cunt. Just the outer lips. Stroking, not probing.
-So what do you want then? – she noticed the tremor in her voice.
-I haven't decided yet.
His tone was rich, educated, redolent with his excitement. She shivered, felt her lips puffing and opening as his finger continued stroking. When it stopped she was disappointed.
A rustle of clothing, pressure on the mattress. Sexsmell, deep and dirtily male. She gasped, involuntarily moved her head towards it. It retreated, cockscent fading but still suffusing her. His fingers returned between her legs, plunged into her.
-Ohgodohgod...
-Seems like cunt wants something?
He moved his hand and she sucked his fingers between her lips. Calmly evaluated her arousal. Part of her wanted to fight: to prevent her own violation by the intruder. Part of her... well, she didn't want to acknowledge that part. She felt him untying one wrist, then the other, slipping her scant clothing from her. Taking advantage of the freedom, she struggled forcefully. At her first movement his body twisted so he was crouched on her midriff, knees on her biceps, trapping her. Dirty cockscent filled her nostrils, causing her to flood. He re-secured her wrists, more tightly now.
His body lifted, the mattress rose, and she felt the duvet being drawn over her nakedness. Her ears strained for the slightest indication of what was happening, but there was nothing. The presence had gone.
She struggled with the disgrace of her arousal. There was a difference between fantasy and this reality. The fantasy of involuntary submission was powerful for her, orgasm-inducing both with her man and alone. Now she was learning the reality. Part of her, the dirtygirl, was excited, wanted the intruder to use her body till she assuaged his lust. And hers. Part of her was a sheet of terror, an aurora borealis of shimmering fear, inside her but also outside and beyond her body at the same time. She moved her hips and felt the sliminess between her thighs.
The duvet was drawn down her body, revealing shoulders, breasts, belly. Stopped there. She remembered the line of the Burns song her man had sung her: 'I'm breastit like a salmon, backit like a swan'. Yes, that was her: she knew the sinuous allure of her body for her man. She tried to imagine the intruder's excitement as his eyes gazed lustfully on her. A surge of wetness. Oh fuck. She wanted this. Then his growl:
-I need to taste you.
The duvet fell off the bed, revealing her. Part of her was mortified that her arousal was betraying her. The thought was driven from her head when his mouth nuzzled into her, his tongue and lips electrifying. She couldn't stop him, had no choice but to acquiesce. But at least she could remain silent, deny him that pleasure. She thought...
-Jesusfuck...
The head rose a fraction, only breath on the pulsing flower:
-Dirty wee slut, aren't you? I watched you wank you know, saw the fingers moving on your cunt whilst your eyes were glued to whatever got you off. This is more arousing, isn't it?
The head dipped again, tongue teasing, working her need expertly, lifting her lust to a new level as her hips involuntarily rose squirming from the mattress. Fuck. He'd watched her wanking...
