Theatre One

It's late and you're locking up the theatre building. Weekends are always busy, but tonight you barely feel like you've had a second to think. Your calves ache from rushing around. Between your lips you've already got the French cigarette you're looking forward to smoking on the way home.

You turn the key in the lock to activate the alarm.

All you want to do is go home and sink into a hot bath…

You punch in the code and the alarm starts to beep.

Sinking deep down into the bubbles….

"Turn it off."

You jump: the voice is right behind you and you start to turn round expecting it to be a workmate playing a prank.

A hand firmly grabs the back of your neck and forces you to face the wall. Adrenalin takes over as you realise you're in trouble. This isn't a prank, and you're alone in the theatre.

You begin to shake as you fumble the key into the lock. As the beeping stops, you're suddenly aware of your own breathing. It seems to echo round the empty building.

You're still trying to look over your shoulder, but the hand on your neck stiffens, and instead a large, gleaming knife appears at your cheek. You're barely breathing now.

The hand on your neck is gone, and you feel it running up the inside of your right thigh. Your rib cage feels frozen.

Suddenly the knife and the hand are gone. Just as you think about fleeing, something is thrown over your eyes and knotted at the back of your head. Everything is black behind the blindfold, and you're aware of your breathing again.

Still with the knife at your cheek, the hand pushes you round, back into the building. Even though you know the place inside out, you still tread warily.

You're heading for Theatre One.

You're walking through the theatre's heavy, soundproof doors. They must have been opened, although you could have sworn you locked them. The hand pushes you forward to the stage area.

It's a flat stage, with audience seating tiered in front of it. You figure you must be centre stage when the hand pulls you up with a jerk.

Your arms are pulled up, and the jumper and vest-top you're wearing are pulled off. As he moves round to your back, you get a smell of the man's shampoo, and recognize it from somewhere. For second you think of that hot bath, before the clasp of your bra is snapped off and you feel your skin flood with gooseflesh.

Clumsily, you still have your arms in the air, and as he pulls the bra off, your hands fall to your sides where they shake uncontrollably.

Your trousers are pulled down, and the hand that guides your legs out of them is small, the skin dry and rough. You wait for him to remove your knickers.

Instead he's behind you again, quicker than you believe possible. You arms are pulled behind your back, and tied with what feels like leather shoelaces.

By this time you've regained your senses enough to realise that, until the other staff turn up tomorrow morning at ten, there's no way anyone can know you're here. The theatre is blacked out and soundproofed. He can do what he wants to you.

The hand on your neck again. This time it's pushing your head down. A foot kicks your feet further apart. Your head is still being pushed down and is now level with your waist.

Your forehead makes contact with a solid surface, and you immediately recognise the smell of white spirit. It's a bench you were getting ready to paint for the next show. At the moment its familiarity is all the comfort you have, and you lower you body onto it gladly, lying face down with your legs hanging down either side.

The same shoelace ties are around your ankles now. He's rigged it so your legs are pulled apart. You find yourself wondering how. Then your feel the knife on the back of your thigh.

You're aware of your body tensing against the bench as the knife makes its way up towards your ass, then in between your knickers and your hip.

With a sudden motion, the knife cuts through the fabric. The same is done on the other side. Gently, the knickers are peeled off your backside, and pulled through from between your legs.

You're close to sobbing now, and you're on the point of crying out. Then some kind of cold liquid hits you between the legs, making you gasp. Gradually the cold turns to warmth: a deep, glowing warmth. A hand starts to massage the fluid around your thighs, across your ass and deep into your crotch.

The hand feels smoother than before, perhaps because of the fluid, which is now almost hot. You're writhing against it, trying to stop the hand but you're just guiding it further towards your pussy.

You stop moving, and from nowhere a slap whips across your buttocks. You flinch, and before you know it you're gliding round against the hand again, feeling one finger snaking towards your hole.

You're trying to tense up to keep the finger from slipping inside, but the heat from the fluid is stopping your muscles working. Instead you can only try to pull your hips along the bench as you feel the finger sink deep inside you, immediately finding your G-spot.

Then it stops. The finger doesn't move, it just sits there and once again the building's silence makes itself heard. It's almost as if the finger's owner was waiting for something, counting to ten, or twenty, or thirty…

There's another slap and the finger's gone, to be replaced seconds later with a rounded bulk. The bulb begins to move in circles around your vagina, and again you try to shuffle your hips up the bench to avoid it.

You feel the tip enter you, pushing apart the lips of your pussy, and you get ready to scream. The sound doesn't come though. It stops in your throat as you feel the shaft running into you, gliding along the front wall of your vagina, endlessly pushing towards the deepest part. It's wider than any cock you've felt before, and your lips are stretched around it.

Once again, the motion stops as the shaft fills you fully. In the silence, you begin to realise that the cock isn't joined to anyone. Perhaps because of the fluid it felt real as it slid into you, but there's definitely no body pushing it between your legs. Disembodied, the dildo just sits inside you.

After a pause of maybe 20 seconds, as if on some kind of cue, the dildo starts to move in a circular motion, rubbing over the mound of your G-spot. Without thinking you begin to gyrate against it and you're horrified to realise that the warming fluid has been replaced by the juices leaking out of you. You can hear your coarse pussy hair rubbing wet against the bench.

The movement is more insistent now. Still circular, but pumping in and out of you, widening your cunt lips further and further, repeatedly pushing your G-spot, pounding away at you. You can hear the sound of your wetness, the sucking noise of your juices as the cock draws in and out of you. Your hips are hitting the bench with every stoke now, bruising the bones, as each stroke lifts you by the pussy clear of the bench before ramming your crotch back down and filling you completely. All you can do is move with the rhythm of it.

Your orgasm comes in a mix of sobs and cries, and the thick, solid dildo milks each last gasp with long, wet strokes between your swollen labia.

You collapse onto the bench, suddenly aware of the sweat across your back, and the aching in your calves. Your breathing regularises.

This time, the silence is not so complete. There are shuffles, movements, arms being folded. With horror you recognise the sound of a sold-out auditorium waiting expectantly for the next part of the show.

Just as you think about crying out for help, a hand grabs a handful of hair, lifting your head up from the bench. The same fluid is now being rubbed over your mouth, along your lips, and dribbling down your chin. It tastes neutral but slightly sweet, like skin moisturiser.

This time when the tip of the cock comes, it's real. As the head of it is rubbed around your dripping lips, you can taste a slight sting of salt.

Thinking of the audience, you grimace. Seconds later a hard slap hits your backside. You flinch and begin to scream, but the thick, warm dick slides in to fill the space.

Again the pause: your mouth opened completely by the cock, and your neck straining to take the weight off your hair. This time you count the seconds: around fifteen, then another slap.

As the fluid takes effect all you can do is open your mouth to the continuous rhythm of the penis as it glides in and out. You're aware of your tongue hanging out and you can feel it slide between the balls on every inward thrust.

You're beginning to lose focus, and feel like you're about to pass out when you feel something move into the space between your legs. Soft hair brushes against the insides of your thighs – female hair.

The tongue starts gently at first. Along your lips and over your clitoris. But the thrusts into your mouth are getting more insistent now, and you can feel the dick begin to bulge. As the tempo rises, the tongue licking your pussy is unforgiving, toggling your clitoris before delving into your backside, and then back to your pussy.

The pressure building up in your hips is pushing you forward onto the pounding cock, and you're on the point of gagging when suddenly it's gone. Seconds later a sharp tug on your hair pulls you upright on the bench. You feel another smack across your ass, and then you feel the hot, wet come as it sprays across your chest. You feel each splash like oil as it hits you, and it seems to go on for minutes as you're held bolt upright by the hair.

Two hands reach around from behind you – the same person who was licking you out – and rub the come into your breasts, tweaking your hardened nipples. Her mouth is next to your ear as she firmly massages your tits, and for the first time you hear a sound as she moans. You want her to hold you.

Sinking down you feel wet all over. Your chest is soaked with come, your back is wet with sweat, and you obviously came hard as you were fellated – you're sticky from your waist to your knees.

No longer able to think, you limply follow as your arms are lifted above your head, and you're moved around to stand in front of the bench. Your legs are pulled apart by the straps to just beyond shoulder-width. Your arms lift higher and higher, and soon you're on tip-toe, feeling your aching muscles stretched to the limit.

You're not sure how long you can keep going, as you can feel the strength sapped from your limbs. You're hanging from the handcuffs when suddenly the tension is released, and with relief you begin to drop down off the tips of your toes.

As soon as you do, you feel something cold and metallic against your asshole. With as start, you stand back up on tip toe. Trying to sink down again you find the same thing happens. Whatever it is has been lined up so that as soon as you drop down, it will be pushed into your ass.

The pause seems to go on for days. For a second your head clears and you can picture yourself, naked and drenched, straddled over a cock millimetres from your ass, observed by rows and rows of strangers.

Then you hear a buzz. Quiet at first, and far away to your right. Then closer and closer, and down towards your crotch. All your attention is focused between your legs. Whoever it is, you can feel them breathing on your pussy.

The sensation is softly brushing against your clit, so faint it's almost imaginary. As it moves down to your vagina you can feel bristles. Feeling the motion around your hole you realise that your tormentor is very lightly running an electric toothbrush back and forth across you. The sensation is almost too much, but as you flinch with pleasure you feel cold metal against the puckered ring of your ass and pull up sharply.

The toothbrush follows you up. Getting faster now, and still the same up and down motion, from clitoris to pussy and back. You recognise the warm feeling and realise the toothbrush is covered in the fluid from earlier. This time the warmth is incredibly erotic, and the rhythm of the brush is unrelenting. You start to move against it.

The cold metal is plugging your ass, and it's been heavily lubricated. You can't concentrate on staying on tiptoe because the tender, constant caressing of your pussy is taking all your attention. You make one last pull up on the handcuffs, away from the metal.

Then it comes. A hard slap across your tensed buttocks that makes you cry out.

It's almost as though the sound is a release, and you find yourself gasping, whimpering as you grind down onto the brush, feeling the long, smooth metal cock slide deep into your ass. You're out of control now, impaled on the shaft which is pushing deep inside you, and twisting as the unforgiving stimulation takes your pussy further and further into orgasm. There are more swats on your ass, and each impact drives the dildo deeper into you. You're aware of fingers sinking into your pussy, filling you.

You don't know how long it lasts. All the orgasms roll into one. The blackness behind the blindfold seems vast.

It's the silence that wakes you up. God knows how many hours have passed, but you sense there's no-one in the room now. Gingerly, you lift yourself off the stage floor. Afraid, you take off the blindfold.

The theatre is empty, and looks exactly as you left it. The stage is empty and the bench is gone. Your clothes are folded neatly in front of you, and on top is a French cigarette, and your knickers, intact.