This story is about consensual play on the theme of a rape fantasy. The consensual nature of the game may not be obvious and if that may disturb you, don't read it.
Imagine... When you look up you see a rope, leading to a hook in a tree limb. You're naked, and with wrists bound you are hanging by your arms, stretched, on that rope. Feet just touch the ground. Hardly free. The pull on your arms, the muscles and tendons taut, are constant reminders of your helplessness. The night chill hardens your nipples and goose flesh covers you. I stand behind you, very close, warming your back. We are touching, my chest grazing your naked back, my breath on your neck. Beginning at your wrists I run my hands slowly down your arms. My touch is excruciatingly light, stroking, tickling. I have plenty of time. As I tease your helpless body you twist and turn on the rope, seeking shelter from the torment but only exposing new and tender flesh to my touch.
You grow increasingly sensitive. Ribs stroked. You squirm. Waist. The rope creaks as you twist. Back. Gasping, you arch your spine, exposing your breasts even more. You shudder when I touch them, too. When I pinch your nipples you try not go give me the satisfaction of your wimpers, but you wimper still. Such a helpless woman. Pussy. Hips pump convulsively. Legs. You dance, hanging like a puppet. Stomach. You pull away, grunting and rounding your body, presenting your ass for a sharp spank. I tickle you expertly, playing you like an instrument. You are utterly helpless, and I make sure you feel it as I tickle, pinch, and spank you as it pleases me. I love to look at you. Your fine breasts jiggle when you shudder. A goddess. All mine. Slowly. Lightly. I just barely touch your shivering body, moving down, lingering at the most intimate places. Waves of chills course over your cool flesh. Super sensitive now, all it takes is a puff of breath to convulse you. Sweet torture...
Holding your head firmly yet gently, I turn your face up to my kiss. As our lips meet you turn away, defining the mood for our lovemaking...
A pause, allowing the mood to change. My hands are still on you, moving gently, unhurried. There is time. Plenty of time. Sliding my left hand into your hair I plant my fist firmly, close to the scalp. Only after I have unquestioned control over your head do I turn my attentions else where. My right idly strokes you, following the curves and valleys of your body, seeking control. Sliding down to the vee of your body, I work my fingers about the soft, hanging flesh that is there. Your softest flesh. When I am sure that I have you that fist closes, too, capturing your sex. Pulling your head around, I *make* you look at me as I give your pussy a sharp squeeze, then pull until your hips follow. The threat is clear, and you soften. Fists still firmly closed, I hold you strongly at both ends of your body, even though you are now pliant. I turn you toward me, tip your head back, and begin to softly lick your lips. Obediently your lips part, mouth now vulnerable to penetration. (How I love it so when you give to me like this.) Light licks mingle with deeper strokes and whispers of beauty and awe. I pull and squeeze your sex, shake your hips back and forth with it, not allowing you to forget why you are pliant. You are careful to keep your mouth and face available for the kissing. Kisses all about your face. "Such a beautiful face."
*****
(Whispered stories of a woman, her kidnapping, stripping, and then her bondage. You are that woman. You feel it in every part of you. "You'll certainly be raped if you don't get away," says the narrator. The thought excites you enormously. Suddenly, the rope that holds you helpless goes slack...)
*****
In flickering firelight you stand, massaging your wrists. We glare at each other, taking each other's measure, gauging when to strike, when to flee.
You fake left, then scurry right. You don't have a chance. I pull you back and turn you, releasing you and swatting your ass as one motion. Pushing you to the ground, my strength pins your arms up, your chest open to me. You try to roll away but I throw my weight onto you and your struggles turn to clenching your legs together. I take some time to paw your breasts, holding you open to it, but soon I want more. Your legs present much too strong a defense, and so I take a different tack: I turn you roughly, holding you by the hips now, ignoring your struggles. As much to distract you as for the pleasure of it I begin sharp, stinging spanks as you squirm to avoid the blows. Soon you are not so much concerned with your chastity as with protecting your tender ass. A moment's distraction and I am kneeling between your legs. Now you *can't* close your legs. Arms wrap around you, holding you tight as I lean on you, pressing you into the cool earth, my hand reaching for your vulnerable crotch. You are mine now.
Struggling and squirming in earnest now, you cannot find any leverage and you are powerless. My hand is there, groping and fondling you roughly, not concerned with entry so much as demonstrating my power over your most private place. You can do nothing to stop me and we both know it. Your wetness is everywhere, betraying your arousal and inspiring the guilt you always feel at wanting to be cruelly fucked. Soon you feel the smooth head of my cock slipping easily between your lips. Your legs twitch and jerk and you flail at me with your arms, but I ignore everything except taking my pleasure with you. I press into you, parting you easily, and thrust, quickly impaling you. Releasing your upper body I slide my grip down to your hips. You renew your struggles with your newfound freedoms but I am simply too strong. You grab at the hands that pull your hips back onto cock, resisting as best you can, but I thrust strongly, slamming into you over and over. Finally you weaken, shudder, and screaming with abandon you loose your willfullness. Waves of orgasm roll over you...