The following story is a work of fiction, crafted by two consenting adults in the Literotica Chatrooms. The author does not condone rape, coercion, or abuse. Please remember that, outside of fantasy, consent is not only sexy, but mandatory.
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As the speeches and toasts drone on, I start to feel the polite smile I've worn all night falter. I had thought the charity dinner would be a good excuse to dress up and mingle, but I've endured nothing but small talk all night. Desperate for a break, I excuse myself from the table and set out in search of the hotel courtyard.
After a few wrong turns, I hear footsteps in the hallway behind me. I turn to see a well-groomed man, late-forties, in a black suit and tie, approaching me. He looks familiar; I'd noticed him at the dinner.
"Are you lost?" he asks, catching up to me.
I smile gratefully and answer, "I suppose so; I was just looking to get some air." I notice his gaze following my fingertips as I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"Well, in that case, there's no exit down this hallway." He's smiling too, but the response is weighted. I realize that he has positioned himself between me and the exit.
"I've never been good with directions," I laugh, inching to the side. "Do you know where to find the courtyard?"
He moves casually to the side as well, intercepting my movement. Looking directly into my eyes, he answers. "As a matter of fact, I do. But how much is that information worth to you?"
I laugh politely, trying not to betray the anxiety I feel building in my stomach and creeping up my spine. The stranger is handsome, well-dressed, but I can sense the edge to the conversation.
"Have we met before?" I offer my hand. "I'm Kira."
He takes my hand, never dropping his gaze. "Now how is it, Kira," he asks, "that you don't remember whether or not we've met before?"
"I don't typically come to these things," I explain, breaking eye contact to glance past him, hoping for some interruption or rescue. "I've been abroad for a few years; I just moved back."
"Such the life adventures you've been having," he says, his hand still gripping mine. He moves towards me and I instinctively take one step back, then another, until I find myself pinned against the wall. "...yet here you are, at an utterly boring charity dinner, unaccompanied."
My heart is racing. The polite smile is still frozen on my face, but my eyes flash with fear. "My boyfriend... he's coming later," I protest unconvincingly. "He had a work dinner." My eyes flicker down the hallway again, desperate for intervention or escape.
The stranger raises his eyebrows, his smile amused as he watches me blush. "Ah yes, the boyfriend excuse." He waits for me to turn back to him, my eyes fearful. "Tell me, Kira, do I look like a man who doesn't get what he wants?"
His other hand takes hold of mine, and he pins both of them against my sides, still leaning imposingly over me as I tremble against the wall.
