What You Wish For 4

"Have you ever fantasized about a date rape?"

I nuzzled the back of my lover's neck, tickling the curly black hair at the nape, hoping to catch any twitch or sign of adverse response to my query. There was none.

"Well, rape? No. But any man would appreciate having a beautiful woman helpless at his mercy." He ran his beautiful hands over my arms; he knew how sensitive my skin was. He was sitting in his favorite green chair at the computer; I'd come up behind him and wrapped my arms around him. I loved his smell as I nibbled at his nape. He shivered, his fingers tightening on my arms for a split second.

"I have a fantasy," I offered. He nodded for me to go on, now relaxing back against me as I spoke. More shy now, I murmured into his thick, wavy hair afraid he'd be disgusted. But my trust in him was complete; even if he didn't like what I had to say, I could trust him with my secrets.

"I love to be helpless. But I've always wanted it to happen without a fight, to have no struggle to lose my power. It's..." I inhaled, " been a dream of mine to be the victim of a date rape. To be drugged. I'd be enjoying a night in a dimly lit bar, maybe, but then I'd start to feel sleepy....and as I passed out I'd feel a moment's fear as I realize that I'd been tricked and I was now in someone else's power. Passive and I can't help it." I could see that my lover's cock was hard now. I brushed my hand lightly over it, teasing, feeling his cock jump below the too-soft touch.

"I'd wake up, maybe an hour later, maybe several hours. My thighs would be sticky, my pussy sore. Maybe cum on my tits. I wouldn't know what he'd used my body for, but it was definitely used. It would be torture to only imagine how he fucked me while I couldn't--". He turned and nipped my lip even as I spoke, stopping me from going further. He rose up over me and bore me back against the nearest wall. He was lean and supple, taller than me. He bent to force my mouth open to him, licking inside. I tried to fight him away, startled by his ardor, but he grabbed my wrists and pinned them by my sides against the wall. I gave a muffled whimper into his attacking mouth. He shoved me rigidly back against the wall, pressed my tits firmly down with his lean body, his cock jumping against me through his jeans. His hands rose to my shoulders, and as he broke from my mouth he pushed downward. He backed up enough to give me room to slide down the wall, gracefully to my knees in front of him. Settling comfortably, I rubbed my face against the stiff piece of him that I loved the most. His hands shook now as he separated his button and zipper. I helped him pull his jeans down, gasping softly as his cock sprang free. How is it that that never loses its beauty? It's never any less stunning when I see each new erection, no matter how many times I've taken his cock from soft to spurting and back again.

He was still for a moment, waiting to see what I would do. I gently grasped his calves, encouraging him to step out of his fallen pants. When he was clear, I gave a quick, playful, wet lick to the oh-so-soft head of his cock. He growled and grabbed my head by the back of my dark brown, high-rise ponytail. He held my head still as he ran his bobbing cock back and forth across my lips. I opened them welcomingly. He urged my head forward, beginning his favorite rhythm as he pushed his cock into my desirous mouth, then pulled my head away and his cock out. My tongue never stopped circling, stroking, exploring the ridge of the head with each entry and loss. The only break in the rhythm he set was when he would push his hips forward to pin my head against the wall, forcing himself in before I could accommodate, forcing me to deep throat him, until I gagged and had to gape for breath. Only after my throat twitched from lack of air would he pull out, letting me recover before resuming his pace. I was shaking, and hungry for more, mindlessly caressing him with my tongue as his hands in my hair directed. Then his fingers tightened, holding me still just before his sweet cock began to quiver in my mouth. His hands convulsed as I swallowed his spumes of salty seed, over and over, then sucked the last out as he softened, and tenderly licked it clean before letting it rest against his shaking thighs. I licked my lips as I looked up to his eyes. My lover.

His voice was slurred, thick. "How would you like to go on a date tomorrow?"

* * *

The tables in the nightclub were arranged tightly. We hadn't come to this club before; we rarely went to any club at all. But the light was dim and the music mildly chaotic. I listened to Sarah McLachlan's raging voice. My lover's mood was anticipatory; I don't know what drug he'd found so quickly to fulfill my fantasy. I hoped it was legal. When I'd gone to the ladies' room to freshen up, I foundm yself almost too nervous to return. Of course, nothing bad would happen tonight; probably even nothing unusual. But my imagination ran wild.

When I did return, damp from rinsing my face with cold water, I noiced the man sitting diagonal to our table. He had a dashing scar across his lip, and for a split second I imagined licking it. I shook the thought from my mind. For shame! But he did look upset, and barely contained. I wondered what could bother such a strong looking man so much.

Sitting down across from my lover, I sipped my drink and saw him smile slightly. I wondered if there was now something extra in my drink. It looked no different. But the man next to us started violently, and I spilled part of my drink. Why was I so aware of him? I mopped the spill and tried to concentrate on my lover, exchanging small comments and observations. Over the next half hour I focused on my body, trying to determine any changes to show what was happening. I didn't realize, though, that our conversation had stopped until I almost collapsed on the table from my seat. Oh. I looked at my love, concerned, a little pleading as I realized how disoriented I was. He smiled, stood, and whispered in my ear, "I'll be right back, love." Going to prepare for something? I felt fear trickle in as I watched him go, but couldn't do anything to stop him. As soon as he was out of sight around a corner, the man next to our table sprang up.

"Hey!" His voice was rough. Definitely upset. I couldn't think of a response. He grasped my chin, lifting my face from where it was laying on the table to meet his. "Hey, we need to get you to safety. He put something in your drink."

"S'okay," I slurred, falling against his hands.

"No, it's not okay. You've been drugged. Do you understand?" He tried to hoist me up.

"Yes. S'okay. 's my fantasy. 'll fuck me. Helpless." His eyes widened, then narrowed, and then I passed out.

* * *

I slipped into consciousness for a moment, barely beyond limbo. I couldn't see. I moaned as I felt a man's thick cock sliding into my pussy. Tried to move my hands, but each limb was tied. Then I was gone again.

* * *

I came into full consciousness. God, where was I? I knew a long minute's confusion, before remembering flashes of the club, and the concerned stranger, and my lover, Darien, watching me struggle to stay awake. I wondered how Darien, on his return, had explained our situation to the stranger.

I realized then that my eyes were open, but it was still dark. I was had been blindfolded. I tested my hands, and I was still tied. A flare of heat stabbed my pussy; Darien had never tied me so completely. My breathing quickened and it disturbed the sensitive skin of my belly, which in turn revealed a sticky sensation of dried fluids there. I gasped--the dried stickiness also covered the softness of throat and collarbone, even splashes could be felt on my face and lips. I wriggled, tried to force the blindfold off, arousal spearing me and my imagination went wild. I nearly cried out from the overwhelming spikes of need. I began to fight my bonds in earnest, liquid heat trickling from the folds of my pussy as I pictured how I'd been used.

I heard a sound in the room, a step, and then strong hands on my wrists stopped their movement. He straddled my face and I could smell his musky cock near my mouth. I pushed forward, starving to suck his cock, let it feel how much needed him. My tongue could reach the head to swirl around it, my lips could wrap around the tip, but no more. I did I could, frustrated by the denial of my reward, but gratified as a drop of cum trickled down and only my waiting tongue. He breathed hoarsely, but said nothing. So mysterious!

Moments later he slid down my body. He covered me like a blanket, like a summer day, hard where I was soft and welcoming. He nuzzled to expose my neck, his breath hot and teeth teasing as his hand grasped his cock, guiding it to my entrance. His head felt huge, bigger than possible, bigger than ever as he positioned himself to enter. Now both hands grasped my trapped wrists, and I screamed in shock when his teeth bit hard into my throat as he shoved his full thick, meaty cock into me. He gave me no time to adjust as he began to slamfuck me. I sobbed and shrieked, bounching beneath his thrusts, soothed only as he eased his bite and began to lick the sore evidence of his violent possession. He was too primed, though, and as I felt his cock begin to stiffen and throb in me, he roughly fisted my hair, holding my head pinned as his mouth captured mine. I fought violently--as his cum began to fill me, my thighs slapping with wet splashes, I tasted a man I'd never met before, licked a scar on a lip I'd never touched before. The scar on the lip of the stranger in the nightclub.

* * *

I was too stunned after he'd finished to say anything. He'd collapsed on me, kissed me gently but possessively, and I was too confused to fight. He obviously wasn't hurting me, and my clit still throbbed in need despite this betrayal. He nipped my throat, eliciting a yelp, and whispered, "I left you behind, didn't I. I'm sorry, sweet." I jerked at the sound of the stranger's voice, but I still wouldn't say anything. But I couldn't contain a sigh as his talented hand stroked down my curved body, exploring it until he reached the V of my legs, still tied spreadeagle. I whimpered as two seemingly huge fingers slid into the sensitive pussy his cock had vacated, and his broad thumb slid over my swollen clit. He moved them back and forth in tandem, in and out, stroking and sliding in and out. He sped up as I began to shake and jerk, holding me still even as I fought to evade the overwhelming pulses of pleasure, as I cried out and finally screamed into his mouth. Sweet relief filled my exhausted body; I lay as dead in his soft bed, only moving to draw in my arms and legs as he untied them. I curled into a ball on my side, feeling him spoon against me, petting me in an effort to comfort me. Only then did I realize my blindfold, still tied, was wet with tears of relief and fear and uncertainly and unreasonable pleasure. I cried softly as he held me, then I succumbed to sleep in his arms.

* * *

Hours later I woke up, fully and completely this time. Darien! Christ, Darien would be terrified. How long had I been here? He'd have the police searching for me. I slammed upright, tearing the blindfold off that had loosened in my sleep. The stranger's arm hooked around my waist to prevent me from going anywhere; he still lay behind me. I tried to throw him off.

"Home, I need to go home!" I was embarrassed by the panic in my voice. But I had not succeeded in throwing his arm off, and it nearly succeeded in pinning me back down to the bed. "You're right, it's okay." He tried to reassure me.

"No, it's not okay, my god, Darien's got to be terrified!", I tried to lunge back up, but before I could blink I was pinned on the bed again, him above me, keeping me helpless. I yelled in fury. He kissed me despite my attempts to bite him, before calmly drawing back to state, "Darien knows where you are."

Shocked, I relaxed slightly, enough to stop fighting him. My voice was not even, but neither was it panicked now. "What do you mean?"

He watched me, and moved my limbs into positions more comfortable to himself.

"He knows where you are. I'm the one that tried to help you in the nightclub, you understand? I own that nightclub. And I made sure a waitress told...Darien?...that due to the suspicious circumstances you were being taken to a safe house until we knew his story was true."

I tried to think of what was wrong with this response. "But I told you it was an arranged fantasy."

He smiled. I gulped. "Who are you?"

"I'm Patrick." He let his cock, stiff again, brush over my tufted pussy. "Nice to meet you, Clara." I started to ask how he knew my name, but stopped. He'd have either gotten it from Darien or my wallet.

I tugged at my hand. "Will you let me up?"

"Will you run?"

"No."

He slowly drew away from me. I equally slowly slid to a sitting position, and saw my clothes on the floor. I turned to face him, backing up to the pile of clothes, carefully fetching them. He made no comment as I dressed.

"Will you take me home?" He nodded. We didn't say a word except to confirm directions to my house. I stared out the passenger window, watching rain trickle down. He had a nice BMW. He stopped outside the driveway of my house. I fiddled with my purse, unsure of what to say. Finally, I simply reached for the door. A hand on my wrist stopped me. He drew me to him, and gently, deeply, kissed me. Moments later, we slid apart, watching each other. His voice was strong.

" I own you now, Clara. You'll never be his again. You can bet on that." I stared at him, then without words hurried out of the car and up my driveway.

I did not look back.

* * *

Darien held me when he could as I showered. I told him nothing had happened. After he had held me and felt my shaking subside, he confessed he'd been too scared by losing me to ever try this fantasy again. I couldn't help but wonder why he'd deserted me, drugged and scared, to begin with. Would Patrick have done that? I didn't think so.

I smiled and nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"Yes, we'd do well not to go there again."

To be continued. I think Patrick and Clara have to much chemistry to end here...