Saturday, 23 October 2010

Hogtied and helpless. A story I am writing, more added.

I thought it best to post the story from the start each time I add more to it. Rather than having a link to the previous part of the story. That way, we may just have wandered into some sort of organised system here. Oh look bang on midnight.

This story is dedicated to Sir.

I woke up suspended 6ft in air. I couldn’t move. When I looked up, I saw the sky swirling around me. I had a sudden chest pain, I was petrified, but I couldn’t speak. I was in a strange place. I had been kidnapped, my hands and feet were tied up, my mouth was gagged. As of this moment, I was being carried over a stranger’s shoulder.

I smelled something unfamiliar which made me feel sick though the cloth in my mouth. I puked up all over the stranger’s shoulder. I felt something big manhandle my weak, queasy body, and I was now like a jelly in someone’s arms, someone who was strange, being held over a sink. My head was shoved towards water. It was running and it was cold. It was relief.

I felt my face being touched, underneath my mouth, I could now make out that male fingers were wiping me. I breathed in and in that moment felt a jolt. Still tied, I was plonked onto a kitchen chair. How I didn’t fall, I don’t know. Something harsh gripped my hair. My head was being pulled up by my hair. I heard a scraping sound. My eyes were forced to make contact with a strange man sitting opposite me.

I was..angry? Angry should have been the correct feeling. I ANGRILY studied his face. The stupidity of it was that I hoped to get an answer. Why are you doing this to me? How much at your mercy am I?

The gag around my mouth was loosened. I kept looking at the stranger. My lips felt swollen. I swallowed. If I could move, I would have fetched myself a drink of water. Ice cold water is what I needed. Craved. But I was tied up everywhere but my mouth. When I looked down, my legs were tied to my knees, to my cunt, to my breasts, to my neck and to my fists. I could shake my head so the cloth gag was loose.

“Get it over with” was on my lips as my body was shoved on the table. Instead I could only yelp with pain. I felt a sharp smack on my bottom. ANGRILY, I knew that I was COMPLETELY at his mercy.

I thought there was going to be a knife. Either death or freedom from my binds. Instead, I felt tighter. I started hyperventilating. I felt a hand on my face. I pressed into it. Mercy. NO. He slapped my cheek. My head turned to one side out of surprise and pain. I started to cry and my breath came out thick and fast. My head was pulled upward again. Lips touched mine. He was going to kiss me. Please. NO. I got spit in my mouth. I lifted my eyes towards him. I felt like a whore.

It dawned on me that I was going to be treated like a whore. I was going to get raped. I was going to have his cock fucking the consent away, my cunt to be a whore for his cock. I listened out to any small sound, grasping at it, it was a clue as to what was going to happen to me next. I had almost lost my life once, drowning but I never became afraid of water. But I was afraid of being unsupported and balancing at a height and I know that that contributed to only a few meagre attempts that I made to struggle in my binds and attempt to throw my body off the table. I wasn‘t so afraid that I would rather get raped than throw my helpless, tied body off and feel that short fall to the ground. Whatever was going on in my head I couldn’t explain, instead I just listened.

The anticipation chilled me. I had forgotten about my heat beating violently. There was nothing at this moment I could control.

“Smell.” I lifted my eyes up to my a finger. I smelled it. I had no choice. “This is what I smell like.” He leaned down so I could see his lips.

I could cry. I could fake cry. Surely I could fake cry when my life was in danger. He was turning this into some delicious sex fantasy to him and I felt that he was going to take his time to enjoy it, that there was some sensuality in this for him. I wanted to know what was to happen. I wanted to say, just tell me what is going to happen next. So that I could know and be prepared. I’d take the smack, the sudden hit to my face. But my mind was also wanting to block some of this out by distancing myself as an observer. It’s stupid but I looked at the ceiling lights above me, I knew that I liked the room, humour linked to danger.

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