Tied 7

When I woke up I was in a most uncomfortable position. It took me a few moments to shake the sleep out of my head and work out what was going on. For a start I couldn't see. I almost panicked, thinking I was blind, automatically moving my hands to my eyes. But they didn't move.

It wasn't the non-movement of paralysis, I knew that right away, as I could feel my arms and hands moving about. I just couldn't move my hands to my face because something was holding them back.

Biting my lip to keep from screaming I started checking out what I could. Twisting my wrists about a bit I found that there was something constraining them. I was tied somehow, but it wasn't by rough ropes. More like my hands were bandaged together and the bandage was fastened to something.

Now that I concentrated on it I could feel some sort of mask on my face, stopping me from seeing. I wasn't in any pain, so that seemed to preclude any sort of accident. I seemed to be just leaning comfortable against something rough.

A nasty suspicion occurred to me and I brushed myself against whatever I was leaning against. I could feel the roughness very easily. Too easily. There was no cloth between me and the tree. What was I wearing, I wondered.

Still trying to keep calm, I called out.

"Hullo. Is anyone there?"

"Ah," came a pleased exclamation. "You're awake. I thought you'd never wake up. How are you feeling, Cheryl?"

"Um, alright, I guess, but rather confused. What's going on?"

"Well, Cheryl, you've been a naughty little girl and you've made a bad mistake. Do you know what that mistake was?"

"Ah, no," I replied, feeling nervous. Did I know that voice? I had a feeling that I did, but damned if I could place it.

"Well, it's really quite simple," said the voice, sounding quite cheerful. Then the tone of voice changed.

"You've managed to piss me off severely. I thought it was time you learned a lesson. So I've taken it upon myself to deliver it."

"Fucking hell. A nutcase," I thought. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."

"What do you intend doing?" I asked, now a damn sight more nervous, but trying to sound polite.

"Well, first of I thought a good beating might work wonders," came the reply, "but that sort of thing is just not me. Too, too, he-man sort of thing. Something an angry redneck might do to a straying wife, but not something a refined gentleman such as myself finds appealing."

I swallowed nervously. I obviously had a full blown nutcase here.

"Um, would it help if I apologised for offending you?" I asked. Please god, let it work. I didn't mind saying sorry if it got me out of this.

"Well, it would probably work, but how would you know which of your mischievous little misdeeds you were apologising for? I couldn't just accept a generic apology, now could I?"

Yes, you bloody well could. How am I supposed to know what I did that offended him? It could be something as minor as not holding a lift door. I just kept my mouth shut.

"Mmm, that's what I thought. You've done so many spiteful little tricks you don't know what to say. Anyway, as I was saying, a lesson. Cheryl's eighteen and probably not a virgin? That'd be right wouldn't it? You are both eighteen and non-virginal?"

I was furious and kept my mouth shut. Damned if I'd tell him.

"Ah, Cheryl, in case you haven't noticed, you're standing there with no clothes on. Would you like me to check on the state of your virginity myself? I can, you know?"

Oh, god. I was standing here talking to a nut and I was naked? How much worse could this get. And as for him checking my virginity. . .

"OK. I'm eighteen, nearly nineteen, and I'm not a virgin. Satisfied?"

"That's what I thought. Now continuing from where I left off, Cheryl's eighteen and not a virgin. I could always rape her. A bit of vigorous man on woman action might show her that's she's not the queen bee, no matter who she goes around stinging. How do you like that idea?"

"I don't," I gasped, frantically shaking my head. "Don't you dare. I'll have you arrested. My brother would kill you."

"Those drawbacks did occur to me, assuming you ever found out who I was, so I decided raping you was out. Another little disincentive was I have no idea how often you put out and what sort of diseases you might currently have."

Insulting swine! There'd only been my fiancé, and he didn't have any diseases. Who did he think I was, queens of tarts?

"So what did you decide on? What are you going to do?"

"Haven't you noticed? I've already done it. You're tied to a tree and blindfolded. That blindfold is all you're wearing. You've got a very nice figure by the way. I'm just going to leave you there until someone comes along and unties you. You're by the side of a jogging track and so people should start coming along shortly and I'm sure one of them will let you loose. However, not wanting you to wear out your vocal cords screaming for help I'm just going to give you a little gag."

With that I felt a hand press over my mouth, covering it with something.

"If you're lucky," came the voice, laughing, "you may be released by the first person to come along. If I'm lucky, they'll have a smart phone on them and will take a few pictures first. Bye. Have fun."

I tried to say something but whatever he'd pressed against my mouth was holding it closed. All I could do was make a few muffled sounds of fury. I heard footsteps walking away and then nothing.

I stood there, seething. There was nothing I could do but wait. I gave a few tugs on whatever was holding my arms but whatever it was just seemed to stretch a little and then pull my arms back into place. So I waited, hoping that the first person past was a woman. Even that was going to be embarrassing enough.

I waited for hours, hoping to hear that first footstep. It seemed like hours, anyway. The weather was warm, so the lack of clothes didn't worry me that way, and it wasn't hot enough for me to worry about sunburn, but the time just dragged. You try to measure time when all you can do is stand there and sweat, not even able to look around you. I was willing to shout praises to the lord when I heard someone coming.

I yelled out for help bouncing up and down. I guess you can call, "Mmph, mmph, mmph," yelling for help when you can't open your mouth.

Damn it all, it was a man. I could tell from the laughter.

"My, my. It's Cheryl, and you're a bitch. Nice to meet you, Cheryl."

"Mmph, mmph." Translated that meant, untie me, you jackass.

"How do I know your name? Some kind soul has written it on your breast. Bitch is written on the other. I assume that is meant to be a description."

More muffled sound from me. What was this idiot doing? Why wasn't I free yet?

"Oh yes. It's written right here," came the voice and a finger came up and started tracing my name. On my breast. "This one says bitch," he continued, and traced that word also.

"Oh, and there's an instruction here," he said, tapping my tummy. "It says press, and there are arrows pointing here and here."

Here and here turned out to be my nipples and the jogger was happily pressing them.

I jerked away from him trying to shake his hand off, trying to shout thorough the gag.

"Wow," came the response. "Nice sway on your tits. What happens when you bounce up and down?"

The swine was having a fine time teasing me. I was so going to kill him when I finally got loose. I did some more mumbling through my gag.

"You don't want to show me what they look like when you bounce? Pity. How about I give you a little incentive."

Good idea. Setting me free would be an incentive. You can watch them bounce while I jump up and down on your skinny carcase.

Freaking hell and I was bouncing in shock. The rotten pig goosed me, poking a finger into my pussy. The guy who'd tied me had been spot on when he said no clothes. Not even any panties. As for bouncing, if you're just standing there and a finger pokes you in a private place, you damn well bounce, want to or not.

I might add that at this stage there were a lot more muffled sounds coming from behind my gag. I was telling this idiot just what I thought of him.

"Really," he says. "That's what you want? OK."

Next thing I know his mouth latches on to my nipple, sucking on it. I tried to kick him but I couldn't see where to kick and only succeeded in waving my leg around. Mind you, he saw me trying.

"Wow, the bitch label is right. Fancy trying to kick me when I'm just teasing you a little. Don't do it again."

He followed this up with a firm spank to my bottom, and I screamed, sort of like, "MMPHH".

He just laughed, and his hands were back on my breasts, stroking them. What was worse I could feel my nipples reacting to the gentle touches, standing out, with my breasts swelling generally.

Next thing he started rubbing my bottom, giving it a gentle massage.

"This'll make you forget about that nasty old spank," he told me, his fingers stroking me.

He was right, but only because I was aware that someone was patting my bottom and I didn't know who and I couldn't even tell them to stop.

I made a few miserable sounds behind my gag, resigned to having to wait while he played his little game.

I found myself no longer resigned when his hands started petting my pussy. He was standing by the side of me and he slid one hand over my mons, exploring further around, while the other hand slid down my bottom and between my legs, playing with me from that side, too.

I was wriggling and yelling and trying to get away from him but it was hopeless. And I could feel my breasts bobbing up and down as I bounced around.

I was spitting chips, absolutely furious. I wasn't scared, oddly enough, just furious. Even when he started fingering me, his fingers slipping between my lips and probing deeply, all I felt was anger.

Well, not all I felt, I guess. He was stirring up my vagina, teasing my pussy generally, and I have to admit I was getting wet. I had no control over that. All I could do was swear silently and wait for him to finish.

Finally he shifted his hands, and moments later they were around me, cupping my bottom. He pulled me firmly against him and, I realised with some horror, I could feel his cock pressing against me.

His hands tightened upon my bottom and he was lifting me. I was trying to wriggle and scream, doing neither successfully. His hands slid down a little until he was dragging my legs apart and I could feel his cock touching me. Then he was relaxing, letting me sink down, his cock busily pushing up into me.

I couldn't believe this. I really couldn't. This guy had just come trotting up and decided to rape me and there was nothing I could do. I couldn't even scream. I was scared and furious and helpless, and I could feel this strange cock sliding along my passage and, what was worst of all, it felt good.

"I suggest," he said, "that you wrap your legs around my waist. You'll find it easier going if you do. You'll probably find my hand spanking your bottom if you don't but it's your choice."

Bastard. Angrier than ever I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist, feeling him sink in even deeper as I did so. With that he started bouncing me on his cock. With his hands on my bottom and my legs around his waist he had a good grip and he made the best of it. He established what he considered was a decent rhythm and started on me.

His cock just slid in and out, a nice even pace, and I found that I was moving with him, my legs flexing and pulling him in as he went forward, my hips trying to push me onto him. He was taking his time and I was stuck with what he decided. I couldn't tell him to hurry up, slow down, or even to take that thing out of me and stick it in a vice.

Gags are a severe handicap to sex.

"Like this do you, Cheryl," he asked, busy plying his wares.

"Mmph," I'd say, meaning that I would rather have root canal work without anaesthetic.

"Yeah, I thought you did," he'd reply giving me an extra hard thrust.

"Geez, you feel swell," he'd say, his cock plunging into me.

"Mmph," came my reply, this time meaning that if he had a cock of any size I might feel something, too. How can you be rude when you can't talk?

He was a slow comer. He just seemed to keep on going while I twitched and squirmed and had no choice but to go on the journey with him. I'll admit that if I'd been doing this of my own free will I'd have enjoyed it. He was quite good at it. Seeing it wasn't of my own free will I'll never admit to any such thing.

I could tell when he was finally ready. He gave a groan and then it was as someone new was there, swinging away. He banged into me in earnest, and I knew I was going to climax. Then I was climaxing and he was opening up the flood gates and it all went to hell in a handcart.

I was vaguely aware of him disengaging, leaving me practically dangling by whatever held my hands. I waited for him to untie me, ready to sink down onto the ground. I heard him softly whistling.

Then to my consternation, and great indignation, I heard his whistling receding as he went jogging on his way, leaving me there. That little stunt sure threw off the lethargy of after-climax feeling. How dare he? Another reason to kill the little turd if I ever found him. Another reason to make sure the guy who'd left me here died by the death of a thousand cuts. And I'd quite happily make each one.

More waiting, but not for as long this time. I heard someone else coming, and the footprints were quite heavy. Another man, damn it. Whoever it was came jogging right up to me, stopped and laughed.

"Cheryl," he said, cupping one breast, "and bitch," cupping the other.

Then his thumbs rolled my nipples around.

"What idiot would say press," he wondered out loud. "They're much more responsive this way."

I'll say. I'd calmed down and relaxed since the first jogger left, but as soon as this guy started rolling my nipples around they literally jumped to attention, sending little ripples of excitement through me.

"Well, Cheryl, I assume that you want to be untied," he said, and I gave an enthusiastic "MMM".

"I thought so," he said, "but I won't embarrass you by untying you myself. There are a couple of girls further down the track and they'll be here in a few minutes. They'll set you loose."

Embarrass me. Please embarrass me, I wanted to say.

Not the, "Mmph. Mmph." I actually said.

"Yes, I know. You wouldn't mind if I embarrassed you. But if I did set you free I wouldn't be able to do this."

Fucking hell! I was being lifted up again and there was a cock waiting for me to come down. He just jammed it straight up me, banging away in fine style right from the word go.

My legs seemed to come up automatically to wrap around him. Sheer self-defence from the shafting I was getting.

"That's the girl," he said approvingly. "I have to make this quick. You won't want me still here when the girls come trotting up."

Big deal. I didn't want him there right now. But I was stuck with him, or perhaps I should say stuck on him. He was really giving it to me. The big advantage of his hit and run style was that it finished fast. I expected him to just fire off and take off. I was actually shocked to find how I was responding to his wild thrusting.

I've never had two orgasms so close behind each other. Maybe it was because I was still sensitive from that earlier workout, but all of a sudden I could feel a climax crashing down upon me, then my friendly helper let loose with one of his own.

This guy was actually nicer about the follow up than the previous one. While I was dazed he scratched at the tape across my mouth, having it almost all off before I was completely with it. Feeling his hands at my mouth I jerked my head away. Ouch. The rest of the tape came off with a rush and that stung.

The next thing I know there was a jerk at my wrists and my arms fell down, no longer being held up.

"Got to run now, love," the guy said, patting my cheek. "If you listen you can hear the girls chatting. They'll finish helping you get free."

With that he took off, running. At least he had given me some help, even if it was after he helped himself to the goodies.

I could hear women talking and I called out, and a minute or so later a couple of girls were there, clucking over me and sympathising. It turned out that there was a complete change of clothing for me next to the tree and I was dressed long before anyone else came along.

The women wanted me to call the police but I wasn't having a bar of that. I mean, I didn't know who tied me up and I didn't know who had molested me. I hadn't seen a single face. As for DNA evidence on the molesters, it'd be the equivalent of another rape giving that, without the orgasms I'd had. No thanks. The real rape was much more fun. I'd chalk it up to experience.

And I knew that first guy's voice. I'd be listening hard and when I found him. . .

Mind you, I still didn't know what set him off. Would you believe he left me a message?

'Two beaus on the one day, it read. You did seem to be having a fine time. I enjoyed the show.'

He'd been hiding, watching everything. I guess you can say he won that round, because I'm being careful to be nice to everyone. Until I find him.

One thing that came out of that little episode has left me wondering. If I want to have a double climax again, am I going to need two cocks? Purely a philosophical question. I have no intention of experimenting, but one can't help wondering.