She should have let him pick her up in the bar.
Author's note: This is a shortish one-off story that isn't connected to my Theo, Kendra or Lila series and probably won't spawn any sequels. It's just a fantasy that somehow got stuck in my brain and demanded to be written down so it would leave me alone. It's pretty sadistic to start with (content warning), but don't worry, it gets less so as it goes along.
By the way, I don't intend Rob to be the slightest bit sympathetic, and if he's right in his story of the nasty way Olivia brushed him off at the bar, she's not much better. In fact, they're both pretty much assholes, but I hope you can enjoy what they do all the same.
(And no, I doubt that GHB wipes memory after the fact. That's just a plot device.)
Olivia slowly regained consciousness. She shook her head, attempting to clear it, but it didn't help much. She struggled to piece together the events of - was it the night before? She had no idea what time it was, where she was, or how she had gotten there. All she could remember was planning to go out to Rossi's, one of her favourite bars, for a few drinks with a couple of her girlfriends. Try as she might, she couldn't remember getting there or what had happened once she arrived.
She didn't feel particularly hung over - at least, not enough to account for a total blackout. And why couldn't she seem to move her arms and legs?
As her eyes finally began to focus, she looked around and saw that she was bent over a metal frame. It would have been a table if it had had a tabletop, but instead it was just an open rectangle: four bars and four metal legs. One bar came across her body at waist level and the other supported her upper body just below her neck. The bars were padded, which was good considering that wide leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles were holding her body firmly against them. She was cuffed to the four legs of the table, holding her legs in a wide spread and her arms pointing down at the floor.
And she was naked, her generous breasts dangling downward in the space where the tabletop would have been.
She tugged violently at the restraints, writhing her fingers in a vain attempt to reach the buckles holding her. All she succeeded in doing was making her dangling breasts bounce and swing as she struggled. She was in a windowless room with very little furniture - just a wooden armchair and the frame she was bound to, plus a small table that seemed to be holding a few items that she couldn't make out clearly from her angle. A single overhead light glowed softly in the ceiling.
"Hello," she screamed. "Help! Is anyone there? What have you done to me? What is this?"
Nobody appeared. She screamed again and lunged futilely at the cuffs. After a few minutes she realized that all she was doing was bruising her wrists and ankles, so she gave up and just lay limply in the frame.
Finally she heard a door open behind her, and a man walked around the frame to where she could see him. He was medium height, his shirtless condition revealing a good build, not exactly muscular but fit-looking. He had a neatly trimmed brown beard and brown hair, and wore only a pair of jeans.
He pulled the armchair over and sat, looking at her closely. "Well, Olivia. I see you've rejoined the world."
"Who the fuck are you and what's all this?" Olivia yelled. "Let me go right now!"
"What's all this? Isn't it obvious? I drugged you at the bar last night, brought you here half-unconscious, stripped you and strapped you to a simple but effective bondage frame."
"Why are you doing this?" She tugged again at her restraints.
"Now, Olivia, you're an intelligent woman. If I had just wanted to kidnap you for ransom, I wouldn't have gone to the trouble of stripping you and tying you up in a contraption like this. No, I wanted to get you back for the horrible way you treated me last night. And just plain fuck you for its own sake."
Olivia looked puzzled. "Wha - what?"
"I'm not surprised you don't remember. GHB does that to a person. It also makes them pretty incapable of resisting when someone walks them stumbling out of a bar. Your friends were busy chatting up a couple of hot-looking guys and didn't even notice until you were gone. You need friends who will take better care of you."
"So, what did I say?"
"Well, when I first saw you in in the bar wearing that skimpy black dress with your tits practically bulging out the top, it made me so horny I just had to have you. To see if those tits were actually as gorgeous in reality as they looked through your dress. To find out whether you waxed your pussy. To find out what your cunt felt like wrapped around my aching cock. So I offered to buy you a drink. I'm slick enough that I can usually talk a cunt into coming home with me as long as I can get an opening."
"Obviously, you didn't like my answer."
"No, I most certainly did not. If I recall, you said something like, 'Fuck off. I don't take drinks from assholes who hit on me in bars.' That really pissed me off. Being rejected once in a while is just the cost of doing business in the bar scene. But you didn't have to be so stuck-up and humiliating about it. So I spiked your drink."
Did she really brush him off that rudely? She was used to deflecting unwelcome advances in bars, but she was usually civil about it. Maybe he was the twelfth guy in a row who tried to hit on her, and she just snapped.
"Did you - did you -" She let her voice trail off.
"Did I fuck you? Not yet. I felt you up, of course, and yes, those tits feel as good as they look." He punctuated the remark by squeezing both her breasts, hard, pulling a squeal of shock and pain out of her throat. "But there's no fun hate-fucking an unconscious woman. I want you to feel exactly what I'm going to do to you, so you'll know what price you're paying for your attitude. So I just staked you out so you'd be ready for me when you woke up."
"Who
are
you?" she asked again.
"You can call me Rob if you want. But who I am doesn't really matter. I'm just some guy who had the hots for you in a bar. And when I see what I want, I get it."
Rob walked around behind her and gave her ass a squeeze, running his hand over her bald pussy. "And I see that, yes, you do wax that pretty cunt of yours. Feels good." He tried to slip his finger between her lips but she squirmed sideways in the frame, making his fingers miss their target.
"I see you've got too much range of motion in that thing. I could strap your knees to the legs as well, but I've got a better way of keeping you still." He gave her a hard swat on the ass, walked over to the table, and came back with a big dildo attached to short metal arm that in turn was attached to a metal cross-bar with screw clamps on both ends. He positioned the device between the back legs of the frame with the end of the dildo almost touching Olivia's pussy. He tightened the clamps on the crossbar to the legs of the frame, holding it firmly in place.
Once the device was attached, he unscrewed a couple of knurled knobs on the arm and moved the dildo right up against Olivia's pussy lips. She tried to squirm away but he wrapped one arm around her waist in an iron grip and pressed her against the padded bar of the frame so she couldn't move. Then he pressed the tip of the dildo firmly against her pussy lips, and kept pressing. Her lips parted and the huge dildo slowly sank into her vagina until it bottomed out against her cervix. Then he tightened the knobs firmly and stepped back.