Prologue
This is about
consensual
non-consent play. Note the "consensual". It's something that
consenting adults
may do. If that idea bothers you, stop reading.
Based on a true story, with the details omitted to protect privacy. Make sure you read through to the epilogue, lest ye get the wrong impression.
- - - - - - - - -
It was well after midnight as I drove toward my destination, a house on a remote property in the Appalachians. After miles and miles of winding through the mountains on a two-lane highway, I spotted the mailbox where the road to the house met the highway, and I turned down that road for my final leg. Illuminated only by moonlight and my car's headlights, that turn would have been easy to miss, but I had done my homework.
Once on the gravel road, I slowed to barely more than a walking pace, as it was quite dark and I was unfamiliar with the twists and turns. The house would be at the end of that gravel road, several hundred yards farther along. There were no neighbors along that road, nor, indeed, was any neighboring house on the adjacent properties closer than a half mile.
Very dark, with only the moon for light. Isolated.
Perfect.
It was a clear, still night, and even at a walking pace the crunch of the gravel under the tires seemed ridiculously loud. As the distance to the house diminished, so did my speed, until my car barely crawled forward.
Finally, in the distance, I dimly made out the outlines of the house and the car parked in front of it. The house itself seemed completely dark from the outside.
Still a hundred yards or more from the house, I cut my lights, turned off the ignition, and got out. Very carefully and quietly, I pushed the driver's side door closed and walked toward the house, stepping in the grass beside the road rather than crunching along in the gravel.
There was enough moonlight to easily find my way along, listening attentively as the shapes of the house and parked car grew larger and more distinct. Soon enough, I was right outside the house, next to the car parked there.
Yep, that's her car, down to the license number.
She's inside. And she's all by herself.
Over the next few minutes, I quietly walked completely around the house, paying close attention to what I saw and heard, while being careful to avoid noisy footsteps on sticks or gravel. Aside from dim illumination from the expected electronic gadgets, there were no lights on anywhere. I already knew the layout of the place, thanks to realtor photos, so I knew her bedroom would be in the back left corner of the house.
Her bedroom was as dark as the rest of the house, and the windows were open to let the cooler night air through the window screens, a fact that made me particularly careful to avoid noise near them. I paused near each of those bedroom windows to listen for any sounds from within, and heard none.
That's where she'd be, sound asleep. No doubt about it.
My reconnaissance finished, I was ready to begin.
Returning to my car, I retrieved my bag and arranged various necessary things in my pockets or along my belt, closed the doors quietly, and made my way back to the house. The large porch was floored with wooden boards, and I slowly shuffled across to minimize noise until I reached the front door.
A few moments of listening yielded nothing alarming, so I slowly twisted the knob.
Unlocked.
One doesn't realize how loud a door can be until it's the
only
sound around. The squeaks and clicks of the door opening sounded like cannon fire. It took several
minutes
to open it carefully enough to minimize the usual door noises, and several
more
minutes to close it just as quietly.
Inside, at last.
Fortunately, with my eyes well adapted to the dark, even the filtered moonlight was bright enough for me to see where I was going inside the house, so I wouldn't need my flashlight.
There's the bedroom.
The bedroom door was open.
More creaks from the wooden floor as I slowly and quietly approached the bedroom. At the crawling pace of my silent approach, there was plenty of time to gradually soak in the details. Once close enough to get a viewing angle into the room, I could see the dim outline of the bed and the distinctly un-flat shape of the bedding.
And there she is, nothing but a sheet between us.
At the bedroom threshold, I quietly set my bag on the floor, and paused there for several more minutes to just observe.
An overhead fan drew the cool night air into the bedroom. Queen sized bed. Old school ironwork bed frame with ornate iron bars for the headboard and footboard.
That's going to come in handy.
She lay on her side, facing away from the door, with all but her head and shoulders covered by a blanket. She wasn't sleeping naked, I could tell that much. I'd find out
exactly
what she wore to bed in a few minutes.
Time to go to work.
Making sure my "tools" were handy, I quickly climbed on the bed and sat astride her, with my weight pinning her to the bed and a knee on each side to prevent her from rolling away.
That's
when she woke up. From the first moments after that shocking awakening, she must have dimly realized just how
wrong
her situation was. Her instinctive reaction-to resist something that she had yet to fully understand-was proving futile. She was too small, too weak, and already in an extremely compromised position; predictably, her struggling did nothing to unseat me from my position atop her.
I was too focused on physical control to pay much attention to exactly what she was saying as she struggled. Suffice it to say that it wasn't loud enough to have been heard very far beyond the bedroom windows, as I think she understood she could never be loud enough for the nearest neighbors to hear.
No doubt she was
fully
awake now, pumped full of adrenaline, and understanding her predicament more clearly with every passing second.
Her first non-instinctive action was to twist her body face down beneath me and pull her arms underneath herself. She tried, very hard, to keep me from gaining control of her arms, but she failed.
I pulled her right arm from beneath her, held her wrist with one hand, and retrieved handcuffs from my belt with the other. One cuff clicked around her wrist while I hooked the other cuff to my belt. With her right wrist behind her, attached to me by my belt, I now had both hands free again. I used them to gain control of her left arm, which I also pulled behind her back, alongside her already-cuffed right wrist.
At that point, I needed only one hand to maintain control of her arm, so I was able to unhook the other cuff from my belt and snap it around her left wrist.
There.
At that point, she was on her stomach, still pinned underneath me, with both wrists handcuffed behind her back. Anyone observing the situation would have thought
Well, she's fucked now.
In this case, not
literally
