His tongue glides along my arm. Starting at my wrist, the pointed tip trails along the ridges where the rope holds me tight. It tickles. I want to giggle, but the tape over my lips keeps me silent. It seems inappropriate to laugh when your kidnapper is going to fuck you. But what can you do when his tongue is trailing up your arm, swirling around your armpit?

I writhe, wriggle, and make high-pitched noises. I want him to stop. This isn’t funny. I’m naked, tied, spread open. The tongue is wet. Warm. Sometimes I can feel his breath against my skin. That’s warm too. I can’t see him, to tell you about him. To warn you.

Don’t answer that ad on Alt-life. The one that looks so enticing. So perfect. Don’t meet at the old cafe on Morrissey Street. He won’t be there. Or…you’ll think he won’t be there. Thinking you’ve been stood up, you’ll turn to look down the street, and he’ll pull the bag over your head. He’ll warn you not to struggle, because of the knife. It feels like a knife.  He’ll reach his hand under the bag, and slap a wad of duct tape over your lips.

You’ll be helpless to scream. And you came here, just to meet a dominant. To be his fucktoy. But you’ll think, like I did? That he’ll want to talk to you. That he’ll want to get to know you. What makes you tick. What turns you on. How you want to serve.

He doesn’t care about that. He only wants to take. To use. You could be me, here. Laying here, being licked.

His mouth moves in a kissing motion up over the curve of my tit. The tongue laps around the areola,  then the sharp caress of teeth over my nipple. This could be you, you know. He sucks the nipple into his mouth, through narrowed teeth. It scrapes. It hurts. It…turns me on.

I shake my head no, but I can’t tell if he sees….or if he’s ignoring me. He will take his time tasting me. I remember that. He told me, while he cut my clothing off. He would taste me, suck me, feast on me. He would bite and taste of my blood, lick and taste of my sweat, suckle and taste of my skin, and lap…and make me cum.

He won’t. Make me cum, I mean. I’m strong. I can outlast that. I’ve never cum from oral anyway. He won’t….oh. OH…



my clit …like my nipple

throughhisteeth, pushing it out wiht his tongue…in-outOHGODS-inoutin…

My back arches, offering him my pussy, lips swelling and peeling open, wantonly begging for more as I cum hard against his mouth.

I feel the tongue, going back to work, lapping lazily around my lower lips….