You settle in from a busy afternoon. Happy to have your thoughts to yourself now after spending the last few hours grading algebra finals online. Kids these days just don’t care about anything, let alone functions and exponentials. After a few minutes of perusing your favorite sites to catch up on the news of the day, you eventually head over to check your email. You’re surprised by the subject line in a message from Bella. “PLEASE HELP!!!” in all caps and far too many exclamation points. That girl is so melodramatic sometimes. She has been talking your head off since you met her on that scandalous site long ago and today is no different. You open the email expecting that you’re going to have to debunk some stupid conspiracy theory, or translate something from Spanish to tell her that no, it is not in fact a government document admitting to chem trails or aliens. You definitely didn’t expect what you got though. A fever pitch of panic and a nervous plea. Your evening is suddenly a lot more interesting.
“This is really bad and I’m so sorry to even ask, but I have a flat tire and I’m stranded and I don’t know anyone to call for help and I don’t know what to do and it’s hot and I’m so far from anywhere and I don’t know what to do!!!! Surely by the time you read this, I’ll already be dead.”
You quickly check the time stamp. Ten minutes ago. She surely hasn’t shriveled up in the heat in just ten minutes. And she must not be too bad off since she went to the trouble of attaching a picture of Princess Leah hunched over in hologram form. It’s laughable to think you’re her only hope, but you like the thought anyway. You can think of a dozen different things she can do that don’t include you. But you have to admit, her having a problem like this when you happen to be in town is pretty lucky. You could save her day personally. . . and maybe take advantage of the situation just for the fun of it.
You reply to find out some more details. Maybe she has come to her senses by now and doesn’t even think she needs your help anymore. Is she really wanting to tear down this wall of fantasy to have you show up in her reality? You get a near immediate response telling you that yes, she still needs help, please help. “Calm down, I’m headed your way now.”
It doesn’t take you that long to find her. You know the area well, despite not living here now. It was pretty handy how she moved to your old stomping grounds. You were able to influence her decisions subtly and figure out from her ramblings precisely the part of town she ended up in. You secretly stalked her for the fun of it, but never let on too much. You never expected anything to come of your knowing, but here you are, and there she is. Her little Honda at the side of the road. It looks like she put forth a reasonable effort, but then found the spare was flat too. It just needs some air. If you had your truck, you have a compressor at the ready just for these kinds of situations. This rental doesn’t have anything useful in it but even if it did you doubt you would use it. The alternative is far too enticing.
You get out of your car and go over to hers. She has it running so she can stay a little bit cool in this triple digit heat. She hasn’t noticed you yet. Her head buried in her phone, frantically typing away with both her thumbs. You rap your knuckles on the window and give her quite the startle. She recovers quickly though and hops out of the car.
“Alec?” She’s wearing a flowing polka dot dress in navy blue with white dots. The v neck draws your gaze downward but there’s nothing actually revealing at all. She looks a little bit stressed, but she’s hiding it rather well. You find it odd to realize that this girl you’re just now meeting for the first time, you actually know so many of her intimate thoughts. Thoughts that you bet she would never dare breathe a word about to anyone.
“Hi Bella. Show me the problem.” You state it simply. As a command. No nonsense and matter of fact.
“Thank you so much for rescuing me. . . “ She has a hard time meeting your gaze, looking away at the ground when you look at her too closely. With her height, she probably doesn’t have to look up to very many people, but each time her eyes find yours, she instantly purses her lips and finds the ground again. “Over here, see?” She tells you about the heroics she went to, “And my little air compressor has a hole in the tube thingy so it doesn’t work and. . . ” the pitch of her voice gets higher and higher as she explains and now you can hear the panic that you expected.
“Let’s take a look.” The intensity of the day’s heat is starting to dissipate. You note that it won’t be too much longer before it’s dark while you peruse her handiwork. She did a good job on the tire change, but the spare is definitely flat. Not completely. But enough that it looks problematic. And sure enough, the hose for her mini compressor is useless. It’s a shame that she’s so prepared, but then all her solutions fail her. Such a shame.
“Ok. Here’s what we’re going to do. . .” You motion with a nod and walk over to your car and she follows. You reach in to grab a bottle of water and hand it to her. She downs it in just a few gulps without coming up for air in between. You crack some joke about it only being an hour, why didn’t she just lay down and wait for vultures.
“I’ll have you know . . .” she starts a tirade. “I was sitting here for like two whole hours in a panic trying to figure out what to do before I ever even emailed you. And I can’t say how terribly much I appreciate the help, but I ain’t exactly a delicate little flower, I have skills . . . sir.” She folds her arms in a huff.
Giving you title isn’t exactly unusual in these parts, but the way she says it, then instantly shrinks tells you the word isn’t natural coming out of her lips. She’s told you before how she struggles with the word in reality because it’s so deeply ingrained in her fantasy life submission. You could grab a handful of her hair and force her on her knees right now. But you decide against it. Maybe later. “Oh, take it easy. Here, have another one.” She grabs the bottle of water angrily and drinks half of that one too. She eventually mumbles a thank you.
“Let’s get your tire in the trunk and get it fixed.” She nods and follows, staying a half step behind. “Do you see that tie down?” She leans into the trunk where you’re pointing. “Perfect.” Getting her secured in the trunk is just a small matter. A confused squeal and a little flailing. No problem at all.
*****
I’m more mad than anything. What the fuck? We’ve been friends for such a long time and you’re always a perfect gentleman. Some veiled threats that keep me guessing each time you’re in town, but I stay careful about my whereabouts and I always assume you’re giving me a thrill for the fun of it. Locked in your trunk while you take me to God knows where is not a thrill for the fun of it!
I have no idea how long you’ve been driving. It’s too dark and so uncomfortable. When you finally slow down, I swear I can feel every bump on the stupid gravel road. Eventually the car comes to a stop and I’m happy to not be moving.
The trunk pops open and you’re standing there. I can make out only your silhouette at first. My eyes take a minute to adjust. Eventually the light of the big full moon brings everything into focus. I can see the pallor of the world around me in dull blues and purples, but none of it bears any importance. I can’t tear my eyes away from you. I should be memorizing the surroundings but I can’t look away. Your towering frame and an aggressive stance try to terrify me to compliance.
I definitely feel that terror, but I hold it together just enough. “Take me home,” I demand. I may have had trouble with the eye contact earlier, but now I don’t. I glare at you resolutely.
You consider me for a brief moment. Weighing how you’re going to handle me. “You are home,” you say, then grab my arm and yank me from the trunk. I try to break free, but you anticipate my every move and drag me inside the cabin anyway. Your grip on my arm with one hand and a firm guiding pressure in the small of my back with the other is all it takes to steer me where you want me to go.
“Now settle down Bella.” You speak calmly, directing me down a dark hallway and into a bedroom, then usher me over to a small desk in the corner of the room. Your powerful grip on me leaves no doubt that you’re in charge, but you accomplish it with seemingly little effort. I do what you say because you command it and I can’t think to disobey. Sitting when you say so. Holding still beyond all sense and logic while you secure my hands behind me and through the spindles in the chair. Then zip tying my ankles to the chair legs. “This hurts me more than it hurts you, Bella.” I start crying, knowing that all is hopeless now. You knew it was hopeless long before now, but you don’t say so. You wipe my tears and kiss the top of my head. “I’ll be back quickly this time, my girl.”
With that, you head out the door and I’m left alone.
Alone with my thoughts.
All of the things I should have done differently.
Could I have prevented the flat tire? No. I don’t know why it happened. The giant bolt sticking out of it sure seems like something I should have noticed driving over. But I didn’t.
Is there someone else I could have contacted? I don’t know hardly anyone around here. Still. Stupid me goes straight to, let’s email my pretend rapist boyfriend for help? Now here I am.
I should have known better.
I find a way to settle in. To still my thoughts. To ignore the strain of having my arms pulled behind me. I dive inward. Protecting myself from the terror of the moment. Don’t think. Just be. Everything will be fine. I think of ocean waves and let it lull me to zone out and stop thinking.
I don’t know how much time has passed before I hear a commotion outside the room. Shuffling around. Doors opening and closing. I don’t know
what I wish. I don’t like being alone here like this. Will I like not being alone better or worse? I don’t know. Eventually the door opens and you step into the room. You nonchalantly toss some things onto the bed. I try to pay attention to every detail that I can, but I have a very limited view in this position and the sounds I can interpret are minimal.
You look at me with concern. “Is this too tight? Let’s set you free.” You take a pocket knife out of your jeans and I wait for my wrists to be freed. That’s not at all what you have in mind though. Instead of undoing the zip tie holding me captive, you instead open up the front of my dress and cut apart my bra. My breasts topple out and present themselves to you with a mind of their own. No! I’m mortified to be so on display. You stare in appreciation for a moment. I look away with shame as you lean against the edge of the desk and just stare. I can feel your eyes on me even without seeing. I start fidgeting. Trying to get my hands loose. As your luck would have it, twisting and pulling my wrists comes from a good amount of shoulder action and that creates some nice bounce and shimmy to my exposed tits, not to mention the cool air that has motivated my nipples to attention.
With my eyes tightly clenched and my thoughts fully on getting my hands free, I’m almost able to forget that you’re there staring. That is, until the warmth of your hand disrupts my thoughts and I freeze in place. Your fingers lightly circle the bare flesh of my left breast a few times before thumbing my nipple and then cupping and squeezing it in it’s entirety. You repeat the action on my right breast, leaving the left one cold and alone. But only for a moment. You move to stand behind me where you reach forward to fondle both simultaneously. Massaging and kneading them, thumbing my nipples in unison, enjoying the way they fill your hands and how they undulate and bounce with and against your touch. I’m whimpering quietly, but that’s ok. The sooner I accept defeat and find full submission to your will, the easier it will be for me. You press your lips to the expanse of my neck that is available to you with the way I have my face turned away. I startle at the sensation. You feel a small jump that echoes through my whole body. My tits in your hands give an extra independent bounce before I sink back. You can feel my will to fight slowly draining away as though the very concept of the thought is holding me rigid, but suddenly less so.
“Now Bella,” your tone is gentle, but there’s no mistaking your threat, “I’m going to cut you loose so you can get out of this chair. I just want you to understand your situation if you decide to try to flee. From that window over there, the backyard looks rather ordinary. But what you can’t see in the night is that just beyond the fence line, there is nothing but forest on all sides. In fact, the nearest anything at all is five miles away and that’s if you pick the right direction, which let’s face it, your odds aren’t real good. Even if you do pick the correct direction, you have to venture through the woods in your bare feet. And I don’t have to tell you how many things are out there that can hurt you in the forest. Snakes and spiders and scorpions and wild boar.”
“But then again, it’s awfully convenient to have you trapped like this.” You circle back to stand in front of me and crouch down. Please let him just cut my ankles free. You fiddle with the zip tie holding the right ankle to the chair leg and I hold my breath waiting for you to cut it. But instead, you trail your hand up my leg, softly caressing it as you go. You rest it on my knee for a moment. I squeeze my knees tightly together.
“Look at me, Bella,” you command.
I don’t want to. I want to keep my eyes sealed tightly closed so I don’t have to face this reality. I don’t want to see the man I’ve fantasized about for so long right here in reality. I love all of my fantasies and I’ve worked up a good solid crush on him, but it was always supposed to stay pretend. I don’t really know him. I don’t really know what he’s capable of. I don’t really know what he wants. He’s always been very very vague about what he wants from me and that should have been a huge warning sign and now here he is with me tied to a chair and at his mercy. I don’t want to face any of it.
You wait silently. Watching the emotions play out over my scrunched face. You note the rise and fall of my bare chest when I take a deep breath and steady myself, then sit up straight and tall and look you in the eyes.
“Now that’s better. Tell me Bella, what was it? Three days ago . . . “ you look away from me and take your phone out of your pocket to check something. “Yes, it was three days ago that you emailed me to tell me that you had your wax appointment.” I start crying. “And you’ve pointed out that you enjoy not wearing panties when you’re freshly waxed. But not once have you sent me a picture, you naughty little tease. . .”
“You’ve never asked for one,” I interject. My momentary indignation overriding my fear.
“The time for pictures has long passed, my little Bella. I want to know what I’m going to find when I force your knees apart.” You lift the skirt of my dress so the hem sits halfway up my thigh. You have a hand on each knee now and you’re looking at me like you want an answer, but it doesn’t matter and I’ve dissolved into a whimpering mess, my eyes squeezed tightly shut and my head turned away to the side again. “Look at me Bella.” Your tone has gotten firmer. I shake my head back and forth. You feel all the muscles in my legs tense while I put renewed effort into pressing my knees as tightly together as I possibly can. You wait, and wait some more. Eventually your inaction convinces me that it’s safe to open my eyes again. “So Bella, what am I going to find? Are you wearing panties like a good girl, . . . or is your bare pussy right here for me to see like a whore?”
I stutter and stammer my confession through my tears. “I’m a g-g-good g-g-g-girl.”
“A good girl, huh. I don’t think good girls get their pussies waxed and talk to strange men online about it, now do they?” You inch my hem up some more. Then some more. You get a glimpse of the pale pink satin hiding my treasure “Pink panties, very nice.” You dance your fingers along the part that isn’t hidden by my clenched legs. “Tell me, Bella. . . when you put these on this morning, did you ever imagine that I would be taking them off of you?” You pause and wait for the realization to sink in. You’re very much enjoying the effect you’re having on me. The way I’m becoming breathless at each successive suggestion. The way I seem more and more hopeless. The way I wilt into your words. You’re addicted and want more. More of my despair. More power over me. To fill my mind with ideas that you put in it. “Tell me Bella, when you put these delicate pink panties over your freshly waxed bare pussy this morning, did it ever cross your mind that I would be peeling them off of you tonight and gagging you with them? That you would taste your unwanted arousal while I fuck you? How wet are you Bella? When I take these pretty panties off you in just a few short minutes, am I going to find your cunt dripping wet and begging for my cock?”
With that, you step behind me and before I even know what has happened, you yank me off the chair and push me towards the bed. What? The whirlwind of motion when I thought I was still bound makes my head spin. Face down on the bed, one of your large hands holding both my wrists behind me. I feel so confused. What happened? It takes a minute, but I decide that you must have cut the ties when I was distracted with the horror of your terrible words.
Once my mind catches up, I know that I probably have precious little time to do anything at all. I take a moment to take stock of things. You’re straddling me, but up on your knees. I can hear you fiddling with something. Packaging. With my wrists held with one hand, you must be trying to open something with the other. . . wait . . . I know that sound. Duct tape. No. I lay perfectly still, conserving all of my energy and wait for just the right time. You shift your hand that’s holding mine and I spring to action, pulling my hands away and tucking my knees to pull my legs out from under you. I roll off the edge of the bed, but you react too quickly for me to get anywhere. You try to grab me, but I quickly slip under the bed. It’s a large bed. Probably a queen. There isn’t much room, and yeah, I’m trapped. But I’m trapped in an area where you can’t reach me. I have enough room to scurry away no matter which side you go to.
“Bella, Bella, Bella. Such a naughty girl.”
I find it odd that you aren’t even trying to retrieve me. You sit on the edge of the bed and go about your business. The sound of boxes and crinkling cellophane. Opening packages. I’m absolutely certain I don’t want to know what’s in those packages. . . I’m also reasonably certain that I’m going to find out anyway.
“Ok, naughty girl. I’m going to give you a choice.” You still don’t sound overly put out or agitated in the least. “You can come out now and I’ll pretend this didn’t happen. Or . . . “ you pause, and I hear the terrible sound of your firm leather belt sliding through belt loops. Then the sharp thwack of you slapping the palm of your hand. “Which is it, Bella? I would really hate to leave a mark on that ass of yours, but if that’s what you require, I will oblige.”
Goddammit to hell.
I get out from under the bed. I stand up. Adjust my dress so it covers me again, even though my bra underneath is ruined. I briefly think about making a run for the door, but I don’t expect that I’ll get away with it, so I don’t.
You seem pleased with my decision. “Stand over here in front of me where I can see you, Bella.” I obey and come around the corner of the bed in front of you. “Thats my girl.” I’m so ashamed at how good it feels to receive your praise. “I really like this polka dot dress, and how it makes you look so demure and old fashioned, but right now I want to see you take it off and place it on the back of that chair you were tied to.”
“No!” I exclaim.
You say nothing, but slap the belt in your hand again. Fuck. I do as you command. Turning my back to you. Slipping out of my dress. I drape it over the the chair. My bra, cut open in the middle hangs, doing nothing. “You can take off the bra too.” I do. And then cross my arms tightly over my naked breasts. My pink panties still cover my lower parts. You’ve already told me what will happen to those. My terror rises as I stand there mostly nude.
You get up from the bed. Circling me like prey. I feel your approval and I’m glad for it, even as I shrink in apprehension. After an interminably long time of intense scrutiny that makes me want to curl up in a ball and hide in the corner, you are finally satisfied. You sit back down on the edge of the bed. I try to maintain eye contact. To look perfectly at ease and immune to your torment, but I can’t. I accidentally let my eyes dart around the room to the nearby window as I try to figure out what to do. My split second silent confession doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You won’t make it out there, Bella.” You look down as though lamenting my certain demise. “. . . in the night. . . in the dark. . .” My shoulders sag in agreement. It’s hopeless.
You pat the mattress, summoning me to sit next to you. I feel frozen in place but my fear addled thoughts won’t allow me to disappoint you. I sit. Carefully. You put an arm around me and gently pull me to you. I fall into the hug, unable to resist your sudden compassion.
You hold me for a few minutes. The overwhelm of the day hits me with a fresh wave of tears in this moment of pseudo safety, but I keep it at a quiet whimper. “Here, let’s see your hands.” You don’t wait for compliance, but instead take them away and hold them in your own hands. You murmur words of comfort while fastening thick leather cuffs onto my wrists. I can’t even form the thoughts to understand what’s happening. Your touch remains kind and comforting. Your voice low and soothing. It takes a minute to sink in. The dissonance between your words and your tone clamors about in my head. “We still have the matter of your pretty pink panties to see to, Bella. My curiosity really is getting the best of me.”
With that you twist your upper body and jam your shoulder into mine. You lift me while you shove me flat onto the bed. I flail, but a wave of panic paired with the feeling of falling freezes me in place. The weight of your heavy body on top of me keeps me still once that wears off. Not like last time when I could squeeze out from between your legs, you aren’t taking chances this time. There is no space between us and you press heavily against me. Even when you wrest my hands away, this time much more roughly, you still make sure you’re leaning a shoulder down heavily enough to keep me pinned.
Once both arms are secured and stretched above me, you roll off of me and sit up. There’s no hiding my tits now and my nipples point skyward while I gasp for air and yank my arms, trying hard to get away. I flail and kick my legs. Fight or flight whips through me with the energy having nowhere to go except to thrash my body back and forth. Eventually I’m exhausted and lie still.
You really love how this whole process has given you such an elaborate awareness of the separation of me with my dignity. Watching my hope and fight drain away has been almost as captivating as watching me demurely separating myself from my modest dress.
“As I was saying, Bella,” you continue on as though what just happened was perfectly ordinary. “Curiosity has definitely gotten the best of me.” A gruffness colors your voice now. You lean down to whisper in my ear and cup my womanhood at the same time. “I really have to know if you’re enjoying being treated like this as much as you think you would when you write to me.” Your hot breath accentuates the idea as it takes hold in my mind.
I mean to shout, but I can barely get a raspy whisper out. “I never wanted this.” You lightly rub circles over a strategic area of my bikini style panties. The slick satiny material glides along the smooth skin of my perfectly smooth pussy adding even more sensation to the already maddening touch. You can feel wetness on my panties and you can’t wait to bring it to my attention. But first, another minute of the gentle caress that is beginning to awaken my body to a back and forth sway to my hips. The rigidity in my movement giving away how hard I’m trying to suppress my reaction. You slip your hand beneath the elastic of my panties, sliding your fingers back and forth along my slit a few times being sure to give extra attention to my swollen nub. “How wet are you, my little whore?” As you say it, you slip two fingers inside of me. My hips shamefully rise and fall with the penetration. My panties give you a very limited range of motion, but keeping them on me for this violation allows you to breach my defenses while I still felt a vestige of protection that this small piece of material afforded me and furthers my degradation.
Finally, you stop your ministrations and pull your hand out of my panties. You stand up and begin taking your clothes off. Without you pinning me down with your weight, I pull my legs up and start kicking. You stay just out of reach of my long legs, unbuttoning your shirt then laying it on the back of the chair atop my dress.
You unfasten your jeans and fold the legs over each other and lay those on the back of the chair too. With your back to me, I watch while you remove your boxers. Your lean muscled form stirring thoughts I shouldn’t have. I can see all the hard work you tell me about etched in firm sinew in your back and shoulders. God. And your ass. You turn and I squeeze my eyes shut again before I see anymore. You come over and sit on the edge of the bed. I pull my legs in underneath me. My arms might be restricted, but at least I still have use of my legs. I try to keep myself as far away from you as I possibly can no matter how short lived that might be.
“I could tie down your legs too, Bella. And I will later, you have that to look forward to.” You reach for me and I shimmy away as far as I’m able to with my restrained arms affixed and trapped. When it becomes inevitable, i start kicking again. I land a couple good ones too before you become agitated and yank my legs out hard from under me in a smooth swift motion and climb on top of me. “I want you to scream for me Bella.” You whisper gruffly in my ear with your cheek pressed to mine. “I’m going to take your body in a hundred different ways. You can scream in anguish or you can scream in pleasure, but scream you will.” I vow to myself then and there that I’ll do no such thing. Your hand grasps my throat and you hold me still to force a kiss on me. Terror grips me as steadily as your hand. I feel instantly breathless. The pressure on my throat is virtually nonexistent, but I sense your threat and it paralyzes me. Worried that you’ll apply more pressure and hurt me. I can feel your weapon growing firm against my thigh. I can’t even try to wriggle away, certain that any movement I make will only add to your arousal. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do or don’t do will dissuade you.
You rub the head of your cock against my wetness. I’m so shamefully slippery wet. Each time you graze my poor clit, I fight back a moan. God. I try hard to prepare myself. To not give you the scream that you want when you penetrate me. I expected to be awash in terror and to fight back a scream of despair. But I never ever ever expected the incredible jolt of pleasure that sears through to my very core when you invade me in a single powerful thrust. My scream was not one of horror, but one of terrible rapture. I haven’t been filled so completely in quite a long time and my poor body instantly convulses.
You don’t allow me to come down from my climax, instead ramming me so hard that my tits bounce with the force of each solid thrust and I can’t help but cry out each time your cock pummels my cervix. “Please . . . Alec. . . Please . . . I . . .” I mean to say something. To plead for compassion. But I can’t grasp the idea before I’m lifted to yet another orgasm.
You’re quite amused at my instant defeat and the way I wilt to your touch. The way I try so hard to resist but the pleasure you force onto me carries me away before I can even voice dissent. You love how my cries of passion eke out of me restrained. The way I try so hard to contain them, but cannot. Even though my wrists are fully entrapped by the leather cuffs, you grab my arms anyway. Loving every sensation of forcing me to bear the brunt of your power over me.
You tell me in advance. “I’m going to cum inside you, Bella, my little whore.” You continue thrusting, grunting, and terrorizing my poor cunt. I feel stretched so tightly around your cock, and the news that you intend to fill me with your terrible seed causes my pussy to clench tightly around you in a laughable intent to stop you. “Yes, Bella, that’s my good little whore.” Fuck. I can’t stop it. The idea firmly planted in my mind as completely as your cock is planted deep inside me. I can’t relax enough to stop coaxing you to completion, and the more I try the more I fail. I ride every wave with you, your steaming hot cum filling me while I cry out in shameful pleasure greater than I’ve ever realized before.
I don’t remember much between then and now. Not sure what happened. I remember napping in your arms, but now, all of my limbs are secured tightly. The dull throb of mechanical violation buzzes between my legs. I toss my head from side to side trying to wake myself up from this nightmare, but it’s no use. Across the way a tv screen displays multiple angles of my suffering and your distant voice promises that your fun has only just begun. The vibrator lurches to greater intensity and I’m quickly overwhelmed by the combination of feeling the terrible pleasure roll through me and having to face my wanton reaction on screen. You explain how even though you have to be away for a bit, you have full control of me through your phone. And that you can see my every move on your laptop screen. “I wonder how many times I can make you cum before the battery runs out, Bella.”
