She paced around the house. Her heart was racing, as she absently turned the teapot on, only to jolt as it began screaming.
Apparently she’d forgotten she’d just turned it off.
With a trembling hand she poured herself a cuppa, resisting the urge to go back to her front room, and peer anxiously up and down the street.
It had started three days ago. When she got the very first email that said
i know you.
She’d dismissed it. Deleted it. Made it go away.
But the next day there was another.
i know you. And soon you will know me.
That one had been harder to swallow. Harder to simply hit the delete button.
Today, she had been wary as she opened her email. There was nothing. She’d breathed a sigh of relief, and read through her mail. There were the replies to her blog, emails from her friends, and blog subscriptions to be read through.
A new email pinged on the screen as she finished writing to her favorite fan/friend.
It was the mystery person. She didn’t know even if he was really a man or not. Friend or foe. But this was a longer note than the prior two, and it had sent a chill of fear straight through her.
She pulled the teabag from her mug, poured milk into it. Her hand was still shaking. Putting the milk away, she sipped at the hot tea, and checked to make sure the back door was locked.
She never locked her doors.
Pacing around the back of the house, she remonstrated herself.
“Don’t be such a ninny. There’s nothing out there. Go sit and do your stuff while the kids are in school, while Quin is at work.”
Her words failed to ease the knot in her belly. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes trying to reach that quiet place that yoga brought her to. Focus on the breath, focus on the in and the out.
She heard a sound on the back porch and squealed.
Her eyes flew open in panic. Even as she dashed to the window the thought flitted through her mind…this is when the girl in the horror flicks get it…eaten by zombies, because she gave into curiosity.
At least she wasn’t in skimpy underwear.
There was a squirrel sitting on her back porch railing eating a peanut.
She snatched up her teacup, face blushing with relief and that foolish feeling. A fucking squirrel, forcrissakes. Get a few weird, fucking emails and here she was just going to pieces. Shit.
“Fuck it,” she said to the squirrel. He flipped his tail and leapt from the railing.
She went to her front parlor, and opened her laptop. She couldn’t resist looking out the bay window, up and down her quiet street.
Not a car, nor a person broke the silence of Friday morning. Kids were in school a half mile away, down at the end of her street. Her neighbors were at work. In a while, a woman driving a white Buick would come to pick up her elderly mother from the apartments across the street, and take her out for an early lunch, as she did every Friday.
She couldn’t believe that she was so jumpy.
She opened her email program and deliberately brought it back up, and reread it.
I can see you as you sit and write your smut. Your blog is fantastic and I find myself wanting to fuck you just as you describe in your stories.
I see your profile as you type, so intently, your dark little fantasies.
I especially like your rape fantasies.
You know the ones, slut, where a man comes upon a slut and just takes her. Uses her.
Fucks her brainless.
In your stories, he always makes her cum. Makes her submit her will to his. That is my favorite part, when “he” forces her body to submit, to admit that she likes it.
To admit that she wants to be fucked this way.
Soon, sweet slut, soon, I will make your fantasies come to life.
your secret admirer.
She was mad now. The nerve of this bastard! How dare he assume that she wanted to be fucked just like she wrote about. That’s why it was called *fiction* fercrissakes.
She pushed away from the table. No one, no one, was going to make her this fearful. Anyone could write anything to her, that was true. But their own fiction wasn’t truth.
Dammit, she was not going to live in fear in her own fucking house. Taking a slug of her tea, she stormed out, intent on unlocking her back door. As she stepped into the kitchen, she froze.
Dressed in black, a black bag at his feet, the kitchen door open behind him, he smiled at her.
She stood frozen as He advanced upon her. Before she could move, could holler, He forced a gag between her lips. It was black and round, and almost too large for her mouth, yet a solid push of his palm slid it deep, snugly behind her teeth.
Spinning her quickly, he pressed her against the doorjamb, his weight holding her there, as he quickly buckled the gag, pulling it tight. The leather bit into the sides of her mouth, tugged and tangled in her hair.
The wood of the jamb pressed between her tits, and she struggled for breath. Held this way there was nothing to push off of, to get away. Every wiggle made him press harder, pressing wood against her breastbone, her pubic bone, making her moan again with the pain.
Though she struggled, it took him only seconds to grab her hands and secure them behind her.
Taking hold of her hair in his one hand, and her wrists in the other, he began propelling her through the house. He stopped at the guest room door, peering in.
She balked. His hand released her wrists; with one sharp tug he pulled her skirt so it fell around her ankles. She tried to scream behind the gag, but only a whimper of noise escaped the gag.
She wasn’t wearing anything under her skirt…she never did. His hand smoothed over her ass a second before he smacked it painfully hard.
He pushed her forward.
She balked again. No fucking way was she gonna make this easy for the bastard!
He slapped her ass harder, then, releasing her hair, he hooked his arm around her waist.
“Fine, we’ll do it the hard way, then, slut.”
His other hand began probing between her asscheeks, and found her puckered hole. She squealed, attempting to lurch forward, but he held her tightly as his finger penetrated that tightly clenched opening.
“Bad girls don’t get lube.”
A second finger joined the first and she shrieked at this added intrusion. She had never allowed this to happen, ever. Her only experience with ass fucking was in her head.
It hurt so fucking much. His thick fingers sawed in and out as he laughed, the sound low and wicked against her neck.
“Used, just like the whore you are. Wait. Wait until I get it loose enough to ram my cock up there.”
She whimpered. He felt the fight go out of her, and with his fingers still buried in her asshole, propelled her forward towards the bed. She moved forward fast, hoping that the forward motion would pull his fingers out of her throbbing butt.
He pushed her facedown on the bed, and proceeded to fingerfuck her ass. She wriggled, writhed, but could not budge him. He lay half across her, kissing and nibbling her back through her shirt as his fingers probed her stinky back door.
With a sudden pop, he pulled them out. She grunted as he slapped her ass.
“Got a small deposit here, slut. I wonder where I should wipe this shit? His fingers smoothed over her butt. “There,” said, “now it’s off my fingers….and all over your ass!”
She shook her head . Even through her fear, she was mortified. Of course there was shit on his fingers…that was an assholes primary duty after all.
He pulled her upright by her hair. Her eyes widened when she saw the flash of silver. His mouth moved against her ear.
“Stay very still now, slut.”
His breath warmed her cheek even as the cold touch of steel teased her flesh. He cut slowly, deliberately, in time with his breath. Breath in…snip…breathe out…snip.
She tried to speak, but he shusshed her with a soft hiss. His hand came up and caressed her bared tits, pinching one nipple then the other.
She heard the jingle and tensed. Of course they were clamps…fucking bastard ! If he had been reading her blog, he would have known that they were a component of so many of her fantasies.
She was unprepared for the intensity of the bite as they clamped onto her tender nipples. Her moan this time was accompanied by a headshake, and a struggle to release her wrists.
She was helpless.
The ties around her wrists held; she could only stand there, and take it.
“mmmmmm, delightful, isn’t it slut? Hurts, hurts so lovely. Pinches your nipples, squishes them tight. I love to see you hurting…just like in your stories slut.”
His words, nearly crooned at her, made her shiver.
And holy fuck.
She was getting turned on.
Just like in her stories.
*** *** ***
“Did you think you were safe? That I wouldn’t find you?”
His words rang through her head. She had. She had thought she was safe. She had thought that she was “anonymous” in her blogging.
She shivered at her naivete. Her world had done a 360 degree turn in seconds, the moment she had walked into her kitchen and seen him standing there.
He’d taken the end of the chain that attached to the clamps squeezing her nipples, and affixed it to the bedspread.
“Stay right here, slut, or … hell, you’re a smart girl. You can figure out what will happen if you move too much.”
With her hands tied behind her, and her nipples latched in front…she wasn’t going to move an inch. She even inhaled carefully. He left the room, the floorboard just inside the spare room door creaking under his foot; she heard the tread of his shoes crossing the kitchen floor.
He was off to get that fucking black bag.
She tried to ignore the slow drizzle of pussy honey on her inner thigh. She didn’t want to be like the girls that she wrote about in her naughty little tales of sex, seduction, pain, and pleasure.
That was fantasy.
This was real. The ache in her nipples told her exactly how real it was. He returned to the room, the floorboard creaking, and dropped the bag with a thud.
She shivered, looking over her shoulder at him.
“Such a pretty sight, a little fucktoy just waiting to be used by her Master. But first, let’s get that stinky stuff off your bottom. ”
He wiped her ass with a damp paper towel. Inwardly, she cringed. How fucking mortifying. He dropped the used paper on the nightstand and she averted her eyes, not wanting to see the brown streaks that he’d pulled from her asspipe.
She heard the pzzzt of the zipper, and the sound of the bag opening. He made a ‘hmmmm’ as he dug through it, but she refused to turn her head.
She knew he was going to hurt her. She wrote about this stuff all the time. Dom meets sub. Dom sucks sub into His circle. Dom hurts sub. Sub likes it. Dom and sub stay together, happily ever after.
Then cried out at the first, hard blow against her ass.
“Oh, that was nice!”
He repeated the action on the other cheek.
“Damn, that wooden spoon works great! Already you have two lovely welts on your ass…and might I say, little slut, you wear it well. Well, no time for chit chat just now, I have much work to attend to.”
He hit her several more times with the spoon. Tears welled and spilled over, as her ass began to throb. It fucking hurt. There was a longer pause, and then another smack. She fell forward on the bed with the sharp blow.
“Nothing beats a flat-backed hairbrush. And this one has a comfort grip handle so I don’t hurt my hand while beating you with it. OH, this will be fun. I can’t wait to see how you write this story up, slut.”
Tears and snot slid into the coverlet, yet moving was not an option, hooked as she was to the spread by the fucking clamps. Her ass was screaming, and she could feel the terrible heat being generated.
Occasionally he would stroke her ass, his hand cool, and murmur at her, but she turned her head and refused to engage. Which of course, led to more smacks.
A rubber spatula was particularly painful, as was the thin lexan rod from the venetian blinds. He’d looked up and seen them there, and chortled with glee.
“Oh, that’s great! I did forget to pack a cane, but this will do nicely!” He swooshed it through the air. It made a noise that scared the piss out of her as it waved in the room.
She screamed when it hit her at the junction of ass and thighs. He worked his way down her legs, then back up and over her welted, bruised ass.
He dropped the rod and she felt his hands caressing her, running up and down the thick welts he’d made.
And then she felt it. The head of his cock pressing against her. Her nipples throbbed, her ass ached like she’d never experienced before, and her head spun.
Then he was inside her, groaning as he encountered the slick passageway.
“Fucking slut, your cunt is soaked and ready for me. I’m gonna push such a load of cum up inside you, you’ll never forget this moment.”
He pressed in, pulled out, fucking her slow and deep. Each tug back out caressed her spots, those sensitive areas that sent her spiraling out of control.
She began to press backward.
The tug on her nipples reminded her to be still. His cock filled her, his jeans rubbed her sore ass, and all the sensations buzzed and blurred. Pleasure and pain, just as she had written of. She hadn’t known it could be this intense. She hadn’t known it could hurt so much yet feel so fucking good.
She hadn’t understood, not firsthand. The words may have been right, but through happenstance, not from experience.
She gasped as he released the gag. His cock was buried inside her pussy, stretching her. She felt the orgasm building, building fast. She pressed back, disregarding the pull in her nipples.
“Take it. Take every fucking inch…” he growled at her, pressing up and into her belly. She felt his teeth on her shoulder and she arched up, crying out in shock and pain.
Oh gods it hurt so fucking good.
She woke, wrapped in his arms. He was spooning her and she felt…full.
“my cock is in your asshole” he murmured against her ear. “and I’m gonna fuck it, hard and deep in a few minutes. Then you can write about that, too.”
“…did I find your blog? You left it up one day a few weeks ago. I closed it after I read a lot of it. I’ve been reading ever since. You should have told me. Told me about this.”
He ground his hips in a soft figure 8, making her moan. Suddenly her ass was awake and alive with sensation.
“But for now, we’ll just make it up as we move along…”
Rolling her onto her belly, he slowly began writing the next chapter.