My name's Kate. I am a 48-year-old widow, who stands five foot -nothing and weighs a buck twenty. I ride a motorcycle, work out at the gym regularly, and I box. I have to be tough. I am a teacher for troubled youths, grades six through eight, at an inner city school. I teach Algebra 1 to awkward, pimply faced middle school-ers, boys with wobbly voices and girls with incessant giggles, to be exact. The job doesn't pay well but I have a glimmer of hope I am making a difference. Who am I kidding?!, It is all about the summer vacation.
I sleep walk, somnambulism occurs in around 3% of children and about 0.5% of adults. The body is awake and the dinosaurs are roaming the earth! The reptilian brain, the primal brain, is in charge of what are often referred to as, the four F's: Feeding, Fighting, Fleeing, and... Fucking.
When hubby was diagnosed with ALS, his mother, Renee, a retired LPN, came to live with us to aid in his care. He died three years ago but Renee has continued to stay with me up to this point. This spring she had decided to move to be closer to her sister. Me, being a member of the barren uterus club, I know Renee was moving to give me an opportunity to start a new life. For this, I will be forever indebted.
At the start of the summer, we rented a "Penske" that was large enough for her belongings and with space for my bike. The trip across the country in a moving truck with two howling cats and a bottle of Xanax in my pocket was uneventful. I stayed long enough for Renee to get settled in, then I took to the open road.
This is where my adventure begins-
One evening, as I waited to be checked into my room for the night, I noticed a man sitting in the lobby. A nice-looking man, impeccably dressed in a dark charcoal suit, this wasn't off the rack either, he likes the finer things. Blue collar?, white collar?, I don't care. It is the body I am after, how good does he look naked. The man sitting on the chair, feet flat on the floor, knees slightly bent; he is between 5'11 "and 6'1", the perfect height to bend me over his knee. From this angle, with the impressive width of his shoulders occupying the space of the chair; he weighs in at about 215#. He is a southpaw; in his left hand is a tumbler with an amber hue, whiskey perhaps?, no condensate on the glass?, he drinks it neat. That hand on my ass would fit like a glove.
Riding a motorcycle has me EXTRAORDINARILY perceptive.
"Kate, you need to get a grip on yourself, five hundred miles in that saddle has gotten you worked up. Check in, go upstairs, hit the shower, diddle yourself, hop in bed and turn out the lights. End of story!" I said to myself. And that is precisely what I did.
Sleepwalking away from home has happened before. They had informed me how I rode the glass elevator, stopping on each floor to look around before the front desk could determine my room number and guide me home. Or when security was called as I tried to get in the room one floor down, I had slept well that night, the couple in room #402 may describe their stay differently.
I woke with a start, "what the fuck?" I attempted to say aloud. Unable to move, they bound and gagged me. "Kate, don't panic, keep your cool, you will get out of here alive" I tell myself. I took a deep breath, slowed my heart rate and began to take mental notes to give to the police.
Let's start with the room-
I am alone; I am tied spread eagle; I feel a bar pressing against my spine, the telltale sign of a hideaway. The room looks familiar; this makes it easier, I haven't left the hotel. From this vantage point, I determine it is a suite similar to mine, a mirror image, mine has all rooms to the right, this is all to the left. "Kate, you have this, keep going" I say trying to reassure myself.
Describe everything, every minutia from your toes and work your way up, you NEED to break free-
My legs are pulled apart, stretched to their limit, they are tied tight, I can raise them only a few inches off the bed. With a tug and a flex of the foot; there is no chafing, no burning, no pull at the skin on my ankle, I know my legs are secured with something soft, a tie or a scarf, perhaps.
My pussy is moist with anticipation as I mull everything over in my mind; the sense of danger, the excitement, the unknowing. "Mmmmm..." I moan as another rivulet of juice escapes from my lips, making its way down between my butt cheeks and puddling at my nether hole. With an arch of my neck and a rock of the hips I can see that my panties are intact, my nipples are straining against the spandex of my camisole top, this was my choice of attire for bed, I haven't been violated.
Next. I move my tongue over the gag in my mouth feeling its texture; not the starched, stiffness of a percale sheet, nor the soft loops of a terry facecloth; it is a smooth, tightly woven silk. I inhale, a slight hint of ammonia mixed with the aroma of apple cake batter. Apple cake batter smells like the taste of a man's cum. This man smells heavenly and his taste is Devine. It is a pair of silk boxers, a pair of worn silk boxers to be precise.
My arms are raised above my head, elbows settled beside my ears, my wrists bound and secured to the underside of the bed. I strain to reach my fingers towards my wrists; I feel smooth leather, the indent of holes of a belt, the almost inaudible 'tink' of metal on metal as the buckle contacts the brace of the bed as I try to shift. This could be trouble.
I crane my neck to look around the room, looking for something that would show how long I have been asleep. I know my head is at the foot of the bed, precariously close to the edge. I need not wonder the intent of this angle, he will be surprised when I sink my teeth into his manhood if he tries anything stupid. In anger, I try to raise myself; it is a futile attempt. For now, I can only wait.
"Hello my Angel," said the stranger, "You are in heaven and I am your Lord,".
Turning my head, I glimpse a sinister smile creeping across his lips. Holy fuck!, in front of me stands a God. It is the man from the lobby earlier. This must be a dream.
His voice, with a hint of laughter, "I hope you had a nice nap, you have a long night ahead.".
I glare at him as he strides across the room, closing the distance between us. He is freshly showered and is clad in nothing but his birthday suit. His body is jacked; he spends time at a gym and he isn't there picking up chicks at the juice bar; this man has discipline.
His body is a marvel, broad shoulders, big guns, "perfection". While I should note his tattoos, instead I imagine using my tongue to trace the intricate maze to his loins, to his uncut, flaccid cock resting along the length of his right thigh. I gaze in awe, if I had learned anything in western civ class, it is the appreciation of the human form.
With a 'thwack', 'thwack', 'thwack', he slapped me across the face with his penis. He encourages a drop of pre-cum and with his finger he smears it across my lips. Deftly I snake my tongue out to get a taste. He looks at me knowingly and gives me a smirk. I have to be more cautious.
Sitting beside my head, tucking the loose strands of hair behind my ears, stroking my cheek with the back of his hand, I shoot him a look of indifference. I will not show fear, no sign of a struggle, I will give nothing for his pleasure.
"I will show you love, quench your thirst, give you the release you need," my pussy quivered as he spoke my thoughts.
He walked across the floor, inched the floor lamp closer to the bed and aimed the halogen bulb at my now sodden flesh toned panties. Immediately I felt the warmth of the bare bulb heating my sex. He is putting light on the subject.
Retrieving the ice bucket, he exits the room and disappears from my sight. I hear the faint sound of water being drawn from the tap.
It seemed like an eternity before he finally returned to the room with what appeared to be a doctor's satchel in his left hand and the ice bucket in the right.
The view is obscured by the bag as he takes a few moments to unload its contents on the side table, lining up each item with the precision of setting up a surgeons tray. Beads of sweat are forming on my forehead with the uncertainty of what this sick, sadistic bastard has in store for me.
As he stands over me I see a glint of light reflecting off a blade, a pair of trimming scissors, it could be worse, it could have been a knife. He slowly cuts away at my top, exposing my tiny titties. I force my body through the mattress to escape from his warm breath, the slight tickle of his beard on my chest, as he captures one of my pencil eraser sized nubs between his teeth and he begins to chew, first on the right, then on the left. An electric shock races through me on the invisible lead stretching from my rock hard nipples to my swollen clit. My loins are set afire.
