I live in a small upstate New York town; it's a very quiet place, maybe 20,000 people, full of old Victorian houses. I work in the small downtown district, in an office with about a dozen people, all of whom are very nice and friendly. But I don't have a man to come home to. In fact, I never have; I'm a virgin, and thinking about doing something about that.
There's plenty of young, handsome guys in our rural little community: they all look strong and well built; I would have a good choice, I think, when I decide to give it up at last, and probably it wouldn't be too difficult to find someone willing to take on the job of deflowering me.
Be careful what you wish for.
My work is close enough to my home for me to be able to walk there and back. I live in the whole upstairs of a beautiful old Victorian house, set at the end of a tree-lined street, surrounded by shrubbery and removed from its neighbors. I'm the only one living there just now; the two floors below mine are empty. It doesn't bother me. I like the quiet, and the thick stone walls of the ancient house keep out all sounds from the outside.
I'm walking home from work one summer night, much later than usual. I'm never nervous: our little town is one of the safest. So when he suddenly lunges out of hiding from the giant lilac bush I love by the front steps, I am more surprised than afraid. That changes fast, as the stranger pins me helplessly against him—he seems huge, and he's very strong, much taller than I am—and holds a wet rag to my face and lifts me off my feet...
I come to what seems like a long time later. I seem to be lying on my own bed—I can smell the fresh clean sheets I put on that morning, and the lilacs in a vase on the nightstand—but when I try to move, I freeze, terrified. My arms and legs are incapable of movement: they seem to be restrained in laced-up leather sleeves of some sort, my thighs held a few inches apart, my arms pinned behind my back. But the truly frightening thing is that my whole head seems to be encased in a leather mask. I can't see or hear or speak, I can barely breathe. And I am totally naked.
I lie there, struggling against the restraints, whimpering in terror and protest, but it's no good. Whoever has captured me knows exactly what he's doing: I'm completely helpless. But where is he? And what is he going to do to me? Actually, I know very well what he's going to do to me, at least to start with. I hadn't in my wildest imaginings thought that this would be how I'd be taken for the first time...
I'm not unattractive to guys. I have a small but slim and very curvy body, with breasts much bigger than normal for my size and height, all natural. Very long blond hair, of which I'm quite proud, green eyes. I was never in a hurry to have sex, just figured it would happen when it happened. But never in a million years did I ever think it would happen for the first time like this. Someone has stripped me naked, trussed me up helplessly, and is even now sitting watching me, to see what I do.
After what seems like forever, suddenly I feel a light yet firm touch on my bare breasts: a riding crop, it feels like the leather tag at the tip of the stick, the part you snap against the horse to get its attention. I freeze at the touch, and whimper uncontrollably behind the gag as the tip travels down my body, over my flat belly, and then it's rammed tight between my legs, against my blonde pussy. No one has ever really even touched me there before, and I twist and turn to try to escape it.
I can't, of course; my captor has fastened me to the bed with ropes, and I can't move except to tense up as his hands begin moving all over my naked body. He caresses my throat, kneads my breasts, trails his fingers over my belly and strokes my thighs; it's like he's stroking an animal, and I realize that's exactly how he is seeing me, an animal to serve his pleasure.
Still I haven't heard a sound from him; the plugs are still in my ears, sealing me off completely, I hear only my own whimpers of refusal and the sound of my terrified breathing. All I know of him so far is the touch of his hands. And his great size and strength: the strength I felt when I was fighting my capture, before whatever was on that rag knocked me out. The size I had only a confused impression of, but he seemed to tower over me by at least a foot. He's going to do exactly what he wants to me, for as long as he wants, and he's going to take his time and enjoy every sweet, sweet minute.
It suddenly occurs to me, horribly, that this could go on for days. No one knows I'm here: it's a long holiday weekend and most of my neighbors have gone away. They won't even miss me at work until Tuesday, and it will probably be Wednesday before someone thinks to come here to the house and look for me. But he must know this too: therefore he's probably planning to take me away somewhere and...what? Keep me? Hurt me? My mind veers away from the terrible ultimate, but the fear is there.
He continues to caress me; I never know where the next touch is coming from, or how hard or gentle it will be. He bites my breasts, pinches my nipples, tugs my long blond hair.
Then he seems to decide to get down to the business of raping me. He thrusts his fingers against my soft pussy lips, starts to massage them around. I can feel his thumb and forefinger pinching my clit through the hood, then the hood is firmly pushed back and his fingers are directly on my clit, under the flesh of the hood, the tip of his finger circling the hard little pearl of my engorging clit.
I try to pull away, but oh God, it feels so good! How can my body do this? I suddenly flash back to when I was just hitting puberty and I loved horseback riding: sometimes when I was in the saddle, I would get the most delicious feeling of tightness and urgency shooting from between my legs as I pressed my crotch into the warm saddle leather. This feels even better...no! NO! It can't...this is rape, what the hell is wrong with me?
His fingers trail across my belly, and I shiver at the touch as he moves them down over my pussy to the entrance to my cunt. He moves a fingertip just inside me, and then I jump uncontrollably as he brings the riding crop down hard on my breasts. I cry out in pain behind the gag, but I can't escape what he's doing to me.
