[WARNING: Rape fantasy, forced intoxication, bondage, prostitution, mind-fuck]
You came into this meeting with great hesitation. You knew what you had done and the fallout wasn't about to be pretty. She struck your eyes like a flame, her hot pink spandex dress clinging to her waist and hips the way you wish you could have clung to her... but she stands near the hostess, yet untouched and a complete mystery to your fingertips.
She's teasing you ON PURPOSE, you rage, looking up helplessly into her big, blue eyes framed by the most delicate and inviting eyelashes. How can something so alluring be so damningly dangerous? Her lashes flutter innocently and she meets your eyes with her piercing gaze from across the room. She recognizes you? But how could that be?
Hip by slithering hip, the Predatoress slinks towards her victim, now targeted clearly within her line of sight. One high heel follows the other as her delicious legs pose exquisitely, second by second. You're beginning to sweat. This is exactly what she wants. She can smell my fear, I know it! The wry smile creeping up on her lips tells you you're right. I should get the fuck out of here now, this was a mistake... this was---
"Hello," she murmurs in your ear, her soft, blonde hair draping beside your cheek, caressing your face slightly and making your pants instantly tighten. You freeze, paralyzed by her sensual presence and visually overwhelmed by her up-close visage. You realize you've forgotten to breathe. She continues, undeterred, "I see that you finally made it. On time, no less. How fuck-ing chi-val-rous of you." She pronounces the sarcastic syllables soundly, yet they are dripping with pure delight. You start to shake from pure fear.
"Listen...." you croak, attempting a plea for sanity, for mercy... but your voice trails into an inaudible squeak.
"No, YOU listen," she barks in a whisper, and you can feel all of the sexual, relentless power of this woman barely contained within that spandex dress come flooding out of her eyes and into your soul. You are once again frozen solid. Your desire is still at 100% stiff-as-a-board yes-ma'am attention. You off-handedly wonder if you have just pissed yourself. "I KNOW you. I know ALL about you. I have your BALLS, do you understand? If you want to fuck with me RIGHT NOW, we can do this HERE and you will NEVER escape the scandalous stench that I will drench your reputation in. I will make you a news story so fast, your balls won't have time to drop out of your throat." So that's where my balls went, you mentally accord. You can only nod helplessly at her; she is subtly gripping the knot of your tie. You imagine yourself hanging by her noose, her high heels reaching to the sky, her booming laugh filling the room... focus... speak....
"Y-y-yes ma'am," you manage to stutter, maintaining her paralyzing gaze. You get the idea that she's not a woman who appreciates being looked away from. Frozen, helpless, you wait.
Her smile returns and she slides her hand down your chest and pathetic beer belly seductively. How can she even bear to touch me? you find yourself wondering, and immediately that turns to frustration... which floods your member with even more enthusiastic rigidity.
She sits down comfortably across from you, her divinely smooth, shapely legs crossed in an X - seX - that makes you imagine fitting inside of her tight neXus of slick, velvety.... oh dear god, she has me under her spell already... She produces and lights a cigarette so quickly it seems like magic, the flame appearing out of nowhere to illuminate her face and, just as quickly, gone. The restaurant is buzzing with low, quiet conversation - and now you're certain you've been noticed, since smoking is clearly disallowed in the five-star Juniper Lush at the Hyatt Regency. Your eyes dart around, frantically scanning the crowd for onlookers and shaming head-shakes... some meet your eyes and look away. Your nose inhales the scent of nicotine and suddenly you're fully intoxicated by her brass insolence.
"Where. Were. You." she mouths through rings of wafting smoke. You don't care about the stares anymore. You only care about her mouth, her legs, that voice... her eyes suddenly slit and your heart stops in your chest. Respond. Speak.
"I... I---" Suddenly you feel that noose being pulled tightly and you imagine yourself dangling from her well-manicured fingertips by the grip around your tie, her eyes raging with fire. You better respond to her. NOW!! You frantically command your vocal cords to engage, but they flounder and fail in broken chokes. She pulls you to her, your yoke now strangling your throat with its red fabric, her profound breasts poking their braless nipples against your chest, her smoky breath blowing against your mouth. She waits silently for a response as your oxygen is slowly blocked by her slender fingers wrapping around your gentleman's noose. You find the strength...
"I... I'm married," you reply flatly before all of the air is extracted from your windpipe. She lets go of the fine, silk fabric, leaving you to grasp in a panic at your throat, fidgeting with your stuffy business dress-up suit as she looks on, amused.
"Ohh, I see," she moans breathily, seductively uncrossing her legs - seX - and looking you directly in the eye. "Well, maybe you shouldn't have made an appointment with me in the first place, honey... but now you're here. And so am I." She inhales her cigarette deeply and pounds your face with the gentle, invisible fists of her smoky cloud. You wince but remain steady. You will get through this. She is just a woman. Just a--
"Well, I have no use for such socially-inflicted contractual agreements between two idiots who later can't decide who's going to keep the coffee table or the dog. I'm only interested in MONEY." Her cold, hard eyes fix on yours and you realize it's time to run or stay. She flicks her ashes onto your newly-laundered white button-down shirt, leaving a grey stain that you barely notice, your eyes transfixed on her pouting, glossy lips that you've never touched. "Come," she commands, and you feel the tip press involuntarily against your cold zipper.
She stands up, her breasts at eye level as she turns and puts her cigarette out on the table, leaving a hole in the ivory-white tablecloth. Her figure undulates maddeningly as she casually walks toward the elevator. You can't resist the mystery of her flesh any longer; your mind and body is tuned in to one thing and one thing only: her naked body. You scramble to filch the cash from your wallet to leave the money for the bill plus a tip, and hurry toward her hypnotizing, pendulous hips, and before you know it, you're beside her in the elevator. Alone.
Your heart is racing, beating like the sticks of a maniac SKA drummer who just snorted coke and wants to show off. You're sweating, and you wonder if she can smell your no-doubt unsavory body odor. Unprompted and without warning, she hikes her skirt up over her thighs and exposes her beautiful, neatly-trimmed, dirty-blonde bush. It's like a V, manicured, primped and pampered... you know from here that it smells clean and tastes like strawberries. You're almost literally drooling over the conceptual scent of her flawless, cream-filled snatch when the bell dings and she walks out, her skirt still high above her pubic hair. Your shock and disbelief intensifies exponentially as a couple walks by, wide-eyed and agog at her blatant display.
"Come on," she says, unbelievably grabbing your hand. A shock surges through your heart and plows through your veins. "Let's go to my room." Your heart leaps with hope, fear and trepidation, uncertain of what the locked door has in store for you behind its confines.
You hear the click of the reader as she inserts her passkey. You're mesmerized and wonderstruck by her bare, round ass, boldly shown for any passerby to view at their pleasure. She opens the door...
You can smell her scent filling the room at once -- it smells like a wet bikini and daisies; a lazy, endless, sweat-filled Sunday afternoon love-making session between friends... she picks up a glass from the table and tosses in a handful of ice. She gestures the glass toward you, silently suggesting you have a drink. You nod in agreement and she turns her back to pour your whiskey. You can't believe how utterly creamy and firm her twin buttocks are, and you notice the NymphoManiac tattoos gracing her upper thighs. She is thoroughly immersed in her world of sex. She must be crazy... unpredictable at best... You wonder what other implications her dedication to a life of sexual depravity might mean and you realize your rod is harder than it's ever been. Flashes of her fucking one hard cock after another, her consistently wet slit slipping and sliding its tight opening up and down, wrapping her beautiful pink silky cunt around naked cock all day long, eagerly accepting each and every tribute of ropy ejaculate surging inside of her womb, making her cry out in ecstasy---
"Are you going to drink this?" she inquires devilishly. There's a flicker of hell in her eyes, you think as you numbly down your whiskey, your eyes now blatantly burning a pinhole in her flawlessly trimmed cunny. She laughs. "Eager beaver," she comments, looking you up and down like a prime cut of meat at the market. What makes her interested in me? What even makes her wet...? Suddenly, your head begins to swim. You put your hand to your forehead and realize it's completely drenched in perspiration. Your face is burning up. Your heart starts thudding hard in your chest like a bass drum---- darkness.
Your head is pounding, aching... god, it feels like it's splitting in two. Left and right brain.... where am I? Your eyes blearily smear the room into a visible 3D depiction of a fine suite at the Hyatt Regency. Oh fuck! What did she--
"Right this way, gentlemen," she invitingly beckons to unknown visitors. Looks like you've got company. She's fully-clothed again, you realize, as she enters the room now painted into a tight, black, latex suit -- it vaguely reminds you of pictures you have at home on your computer, with girls in catsuits with ears, hoods, masks and ball-gags -- with that, you realize that you're drooling on your cheek. Wait... is that---??? There's a rubber ball stuffed in your open mouth and it tastes of chemicals. You're becoming more and more aware now, your eyes adjusting to the room and your body begins to regain feeling. You are utterly stricken with terror as you realize your arms and legs are spread eagle across the bed, your wrists and ankles handily cuffed.
Try to remain calm. Your heart continues to leap out of your chest in rebellion of that concept -- omg I'm so fucked!!! What the fuck is happening? Seemingly in response to that very question, you hear her sultry voice once again: "It's time for you to pay your debt, bitch. You belong to me now. I have your balls."
You attempt to demand what she means by that, but you're met with the discouraging finality of the rubber ball stifling all sound. It slowly dawns on you that forming words is now impossible. Begging and negotiation are completely out of the question. You whimper helplessly into the ball, your eyes brimming with tears. A cold, steel object presses at your anus. You can feel the oily sensation of lube between your ass-cheeks now. I'm naked. The realization hits you like the sky-scraping grill of a giant MAC truck. You shiver with fear and anticipation, steadily comprehending what must be coming next.
The metallic device coldly slides its way inside of your helplessly lubricated rectum and you scream out through your bonds. Now truly aware of just how fully immobilized you are, your frightened pulls and jerks soon turn into soft, lax limbs and your mind goes blank as your body involuntarily offers up a penetrable orifice for whomever desires it. It slips in entirely. You are full now. Complete, with no gaps, no spaces. Your ass twitches and widens around the object, squeezing it in protest, then releasing in submission, endlessly cycling through a hopeless physical resistance. You can't escape her. She has your balls.
You smell her scent once again, coming more potent as she rounds the bed to have a look at you. As your eyes focus on her sadistic smile and her shining, mischievous eyes, something in you relaxes. She is in control now. There is nothing I can do to resist her. She places a concerned hand on your perspiring forehead. Her hand is warm. Welcome. A relief. "You're my bitch now, baby." Baby. You like the way she says baby. You begin to realize you're entering the zone of over-appreciative sentimentality; Stockholm Syndrome is a sure bet, if you ever escape from this place. You'll still want her. You'll always want her.
Despite your analytical observations of your present circumstances, you come to terms with the fact that your role in this life is now her helpless pawn; your usefulness now determines your quality of life, stretched and splayed out on this fine-threaded egyptian cotton with a butt-plug inserted firmly inside of your asshole. She smirks and stands above you, her voluptuous, venus-like frame towering above your face. Her breasts move ever slightly with each delighted breath she takes; you imagine your hands touching her waist, just below her firm, round breasts---
You feel the plug being extracted and you hear a deep, lusting, male voice say, "I think he's ready." Your heart explodes in your chest. You are terrified at what this masculine stud will have in mind for your pale, prone body. You quiver, anticipating the worst, and then you feel it: the tip of a real cock. It slides inside of you with no cruel intention, simply with its own desire for ejaculation. Your muscles tense around it and you can feel its fleshy give as you squeeze, though you sense that your reaction is making it even more engorged; finally, it begins to feel like a full, large, steel rod inside of you, pumping in and out of you... and, in an odd twist, you feel your cock harden like never before against the sheets.
Am I gay? DO I like cock in my ass? Your thoughts are racing as fast as your pulse, which pounds haphazardly in your ears. With each penetration, each violation of your personal, intimate parts, you find yourself becoming harder and harder, the blood in your cock pounding and throbbing with no remorse, and you find yourself so lost in the galaxy of penetration, bodily fluids surging and pounding excitement that you no longer care whether or not you have a label or even your own name. NOTHING MATTERS here in this fully-propelled outer space that you've been lucky enough to find; the Celestial Sector of Lust. Who you are, who you were, what you are, where you are... none of it matters now... the only thing that matters is the pounding, the thrusting.... and his cum. You want his cum inside of you. You want it more than you want breath, more than you've ever wanted anything.
His thrusts come faster, harder, and with more volition; your eyes start to bug out of your head with ecstasy and desire, the pain of it is a mere whisper now, despite the agony that came at first when he spread you open and penetrated you with his huge flesh rod. He's going for it, you realize, and you wonder if the end -- the ultimate prize -- is in sight. As he continues to piston-jack your cock-socket, you imagine him thrusting inside you forever, fucking you, opening you, forcing it inside of you, forever and ever, for days and weeks, endlessly penetrating and using your socket for his pleasure... and this brings you to a full-on engorgement, as you come to understand that you're about to burst open the floodgates of your own lust! Your cum spews all over the neat, white sheets beneath you, the bed rubbing against your cock over and over with every last spurt, and as you are just about spent of your own sex goo, you hear him begin to moan, now moving slightly more slowly and deliberately as he takes in and feels every last sensation of your asshole, every last inch plunging deeply within you, and every last second is an appreciation of your sex and your body and the holes you have offered his penetrative member. He shudders with satisfaction as his cock remains inside of you, and you are certain that his cum has filled you to the absolute brim. To your shock and surprise, your cock remains completely solid and begs you for more sensation as his cock slowly slides out of you and you feel nothing but emptiness and crave more than anything his -- or anyone else's -- hard cock in your ass.
Your despair and craving overwhelm you as you start to come to tears, lying there empty, helpless, sprawled out on the bed with nothing and no one to fill your aching, lusting holes. You start to hyperventilate and feel as though nothing will quell this maddening desire... when suddenly, your savior appears and, behind you, you can feel yet another hard member stretching and impaling your sensitive chamber. This one is even bigger than before, you marvel with wonder and awe, admiration filling your heart and contentment filling your soul as you realize your service to him and his smoldering wand. You watch, outside of yourself, as he pushes each stroke inside of you, using and driving your tight virgin-bursted hole right into the ground with his persistence. You watch as his pleasure builds, his enthusiasm rises and his lust floods his manhood with unbreakable, bulletproof hulk. He plunges deep inside of you, ravaging your pleasure hole and forcing you into yet another tsunami of hungry fervor. Your face, pale with sweat, is plastered against the mattress as you barely hold on to your physical presence while you drool powerlessly onto the bed. Your ass relinquishes all autonomy and is forever used and abused for her personal pleasure...
You WISH, baby. YOU WISH.
XOXO
Your ChibiGini,
Disco Moon