The following story has themes of non-consent sex, humiliation, abuse and other dark themes. If such content offends you, please do not read. This is an erotic FICTION story not meant as any sort of gender, political or societal protest. This is purely for entertainment and never meant to happen in reality.
I let out a small laugh as I again try to get to my feet. Once again, I barely get up before the binding around my neck and hands pulls back painfully, causing me to choke and go back to my kneeling position. When this happens, I laugh. Or I should say I try to laugh. Anyone else would most likely cry or scream, but in my case, I happen to be a bit drunk and high, so this all seems like it's happening to someone else.
I'm currently stuck in a position no one ever has been stuck in. Well, that may not be true, but I doubt many people have been like this, if any. Hell, I doubt anyone has ever had a night like I've just had. I think more people won the lottery 5 times than had the night I've had.
My hands are tied behind my neck thanks to a dirty old man who was apparently having a tryst with an 18 year old girl, who he thought was me. That was before a married man fucked me thinking I was his wife but after two stoners double teamed me. Like I said, it's been a crazy night. Did I mention I'm currently gagged with a fake cock and a small bottle of whiskey?
In any case, my hands are tied together, and then tied to my neck. As I was trying to get home I tripped and fell, in which my bounds just stuck on a fucking nail that's sticking out of an old fence. This neighbor has no clue about fence maintenance, and so the belt that binds my wrists is stuck on a nail or something sticking out from his fence.
And so, I'm naked as can be, helpless as well as my hands are tied behind my neck while I'm kneeling with the fence directly behind me. To add to it, I'm on the side of this person's house, so anyone that happens to drive by will surely see me as there's not even a flower that blocks my naked self.
I'm not sure how much time has passed since I got stuck. Being drunk and high sort of makes time feel different you know? The stoners were the ones that accidentally got me high while the man that thought I was his wife was the one that shoved the whiskey bottle in my mouth to which I drank I don't know how much.
As it is the middle of the night, there's no one out, thankfully. Or should I say, no one out any longer. I've already had encounters with more than enough people tonight.
With nothing else to do and unable to leave due to my bounds literally choking me if I move, I'm forced to make my mind think of other things than what is currently happening. It may sound weird, but if I dwell on being helpless and naked like this, I get aroused. I'm serious. Each time I think of it, I feel how my downstairs starts to twitch, tingle and purr really bad, to the point I want to do something about it. But this isn't the time for that as I very much need to get myself free.
Normally I would yell to get someone's attention, even if it is the middle of the night. But currently I'm being gagged with my own necklace as well as the already mentioned bottle and fake cock, so that's not an option. Talking is out of the question, as is trying to get the stuff out of my mouth.
"Fucking hate it," I hear a faint man's voice say as if talking to himself. The voice is coming from far down the street but thanks to it being so quiet I hear it perfectly. I also hear something squeaking, like a chain or something.
A mix of fear and hope bubble inside me at hearing him. It gives me hope that this guy could help me, but as I've been fucked literally 3 times tonight, it makes me scared he might just do the same. So my drunk mind decides I want to see the person before I let myself be known. You know, see what sort of feeling I get from the guy.
Now I can hear that he's on a bike. I hear the wheels rolling and the chain moving and squeaking. As it is so late and dark out, I can't see him yet, but know I will as the streetlights light up the street pretty good.
Then he comes into view. He's riding a bike in the middle of the street, headed my way. Only his bike isn't a normal adult sort of bike. You know the type that has multiple gears and is meant for serious riding? His looks like a modified mountain bike not to mention he's strapped a milk crate to the front of it with bungie cords. It's like there's been a lot of strange adjustments to it for some reason.
The guy himself looks around my age, well, maybe older. My guess would be that he's 19 or so. He has nicely combed black hair and wears a tshirt and jeans, but if I'm being honest, something about him looks dorky, but not in a good way. Like he would be the sort of guy that starts a conversation with you at the club asking what Pokemon is your favorite. Not that Pokemon is bad, it's just I don't think that's a conversation starter with someone you don't know.
I notice that he's riding really slow and looking all around. And I mean seriously looking too. It's almost comical how much his head swivel as he looks around. Makes him look like a dorky terminator searching for his target. It gives me a bad feeling that I don't think he's going to be my savior.
For a moment fear boils in me because as crazy as it is, I think it be might me he is looking for. Like what's happened to me tonight has been posted on a website somewhere. This rising fear is squashed when I hear him talking. The guy is talking to himself as many of us do, but he talks about trying to find "his date." Now, this makes no sense to me either, as who in the world has a date in 2 in the morning but he says how he hopes she is ok, which gives me hope.
"Fucking hate Tinder. Fucking hate it," the guy grunts to himself as he rides his bike slowly. As he gets closer, I can hear stuff trembling and shaking in his milk crate. It makes me believe it might be filled with stuff.
"Come out and let's meet. It'll be fun," he says in a high pitch voice, which I'm assuming is the parody voice of his date. Only he doesn't look happy, he looks annoyed. Also, he acts, well, different. Like he's more into science than talking to people.
"Tells me to meet at Washington and Jones. Those streets don't even intersect!" He says, saying the last part in frustration. The guy does seem upset, but not crazy upset. Like he isn't a mean or rough person at all, just a dork that got played. That's what I'm assuming happened, some bitch is toying with him, then told him to meet her to which she was never going to show up. Just a low life woman playing games of power with another's heart.
The guy keeps riding closer to me, in which I start to get worried. What if he sees me? Could be a good thing. He could take the crap out of my mouth so I could explain what happened. I mean, he looks like a good guy, so this might work in my favor. Could be my chance to get free.