We Met At A Party
We met at a party. He seemed to be in his late thirties. I found him
interesting, a bit hard to talk to. There was something different about him
that appealed to me. He was reserved, quiet and very smart. People said he
was a real genuis, a scientist or engineer of some sort. We talked in a corner
the whole night. He told me how he had just spent three years on a project in
Thailand. He had many fascinating stories about the culture over there. He was
British and had been all over the world working on engineering projects. He
told me fascinating stories about South America, the Middle East and all over
the United States and Mexico. I found him interesting and he seemed to enjoy
talking to me. He casually mentioned that he had a Phd.
As that night wore on I began to realize how truly unique this man really
was. He was completely different than I had seen him at the party. I asked
him questions about the countries he visited. He spoke to me in Spanish,
Farsi and Thai. He told me about the women he had met in Bangkok and Mexico.
He told me how he loved the dark complexions and long silky black hair of
Asian women. He said the women in Bangkok are famous for being beautiful and
sexually wild. He told me wild stories about a festival in Rio. He told me
about how Muslim women hide their beauty from all men but their husbands
behind their veils and robes, but that he had not trouble seducing a woman
with almond eyes, silky black hair and olive skin named Fatima. I could
understand why. There was something about him. He told me horrible stories
about the women in Afghanistant who are forced to cover themselves from head
to toe and are beaten for making a noise when they walk, or being out in
public without a man!
The more he told me about the women he had met in his world travels the more
I felt like I could not live up to his expectations. I was not exotic, or
wild. I was barely two years out of high school had never really been out of
my hometown. I did not see how he could find me at all interesting after
being with such exciting women in such exciting places. I felt naive' and
unsophisticated.
He said he did not go out with many women, only a few interested him. He
said he saw something in my eyes that interested. We kissed. I found him
waiting for me in the parking lot after the party. He invited me to come to
his house.
When we got to his house he told me I had to be quiet. He played classical
music on his stereo. He had three unusual birds in huge bird cages and a
huge aquarium with exotic looking colorful fish. I could hear a menacing dog
barking in the backyard. He had a huge collection of books. He was so
utterly fascinating. He kept the lights off in the living room and lit
several candles around the room. I thought that was very romantic.
We started making out. I gave him my tongue on our first kiss. He was very
sure of himself as he took his time unbuttoning my blouse and unzipping my
skirt. He undressed me as easily as peeling a banana. He slipped off my
heels and massaged my feet. I wriggled my hips to help him pull off my
pantyhose. He got me down to my brand new, never-before-worn white lacy bra
and panties and he stopped. He liked me that way. I felt self conscious in
my underwear. He was fully dressed. I reached up to undo his tie and he
pushed my hands away. When I reached behind my back to unhook my bra, he
grabbed my wrists. He would not let me undress the rest of the way while he
played with me. I was impressed. His kisses were incredible. He has nice
soft lips and awesome hands. He had me panting. He complimented my tan,
praised my body and melted my heart when he leaned down and gently kissed
the little beauty mark by my belly button.He praised my cheekbones, saying I
had good bone structure. He told me I had beautiful eyes. He said I reminded
him of a woman he had gone out with in Thailand. He would not say why. He
was very interested in my heritage and said he was pleased that I had an
Indian grandmother, along with French and German bloodlines. He said he
could see the Indian in my eyes and the French in my my mouth.
His hands enthralled me. I was glad I had come with him. As we kissed, he
drew my tongue deep into his mouth and leaned against me and I willingly
went down, laying on my back on his carpet. He was such a good kisser and he
liked to kiss, every where. He took the head band off me and spread my long
brown hair across the carpet. He removed my earrings and my bracelets, but
he kept me in me underwear and blew on me through the silky fabric, making
it wet and warm, making me shiver. And those hands!!! Those incredible,
wonderful hands.
He turned off the stereo, saying he wanted to be able to hear every sound I
made. The silence intensified the passion I felt as he kissed me. He stopped
talking to me in English and the rest of the night he spoke only in his
strange foreign languages that I could not understand. The mystery of his
words heighten the thrill for me. His strange words had an erotic affect on
me. In the silence of the room, our kisses, his heavy breathing and my sighs
were the only sounds.
After awhile he brought out a lighter and flicked it, making the flame
flaure up big in front of me. He held the flame up to my face, waved it
around so close I felt the heat on my skin. In the darkened room the flame
was hypnotic. I found myself mesmerized, lulled. The hypnotic effect was
heightened by his silence, the meal I had eaten and the four glasses of
wine. I watched the flame, mesmerized, unmoving. His voice was a lulling,
low whisper, further tranquilizing me.
He was trying to scare me and he enjoyed making me flinch. He enjoyed
scaring me and hurting me a little. He laughed whenever he could get me to
jerk away from the flame. I couldn't jerk away too far, because he had a
hold of my hair. I asked him to stop, but he wouldn't. I started to cry.
When I cry my lip trembles. He liked that. He said it was sexy. Men usually
try to comfort me when I cry, but he didn`t.
I knew I would never forget his knowing smile and intense grey eyes. He
really enjoyed himself. He burned strands of my hair, making it just
disappear with a little bit of smoke. But I didn't move. Inside I was
terrified, but I couldn't believe he would really hurt me. My heart was
pounding wildly every time he brought that flame near me.
He waved the lighter around, bringing the flame closer and close to my face.
He liked the way my eyes got bigger and bigger. I wasn't so sure anymore
that he wouldn't hurt me. I began to wonder. He never quite burned me, but
he came close enough I could feel the heat against my lips and cheeks.
When he got tired of that he reached between my breasts and hooked a finger
under my bra. He slowly pulled my bra away from me an inch or so and held
the flame there. The flame flared suddenly, making me scream a little in
surprise and the delicate, silky material of my bra just melted away,
revealing my naked breasts in the flickering candlelight. He reached down
and hooked a finger into my panties. I knelt there motionless, feeling the
heat against my hips as he burned my panties off me.
I had not been with many men before and it is always intensely exciting for
me that first moment I am naked with a man. Every sense is magnified.I
remained motionless, watching him shyly, waiting for his reaction as he
looked my naked body up and down with that appraising look. I bit my lower
lip nervously, worried that he would be disappointed with what he saw. Maybe
my breasts were too small. This was not a guy from my neighborhood, but a
sophisticated man who was incredibly educated and well travelled. He had
made love to beautiful women from all over the world. How would I compare to
some exotic Asian beauty? I felt like a common small town girl competing
with exciting, wild Asian and South American women. I was surprised at how
exciting it was to have my underwear burned off me that way. I was
breathing hard. My heart was racing. My little nipples were hard and erect.
And I was wet.
I was reassured to see that he was noticeably arroused. I was flattered.
He brought out a hand full of blue and orange ropes from behind the cushions
of the sofa. He did not say anything and he made a point of leaving the
ropes in plain sight as he poured me another glass of wine. My heart was
pounding. I knew what the ropes were for. Maybe I had never done anything
like that before, but I am not naive. He looked me in the eye and
smiled.
He never asked if it was okay with me, and and I put up no resistance as he
tied me up. He took his time, whispering and kissing me as he pulled my arms
behind my back. He knew what he was doing. He had tied up women in Bangkok,
Rio and Kuwait City the way he was tying me up. He brought my arms
together a bit painfully, wrapping the rope around my arms just above my
elbows, making my back arch, pushing my naked breasts out toward him. He
stroked and caressed me tenderly before he tied separate ropes around my
wrists. He was gentle, yet firm as he tied me tight. He was very
methodical and precise about his knots and took a long time before he was
satisfied with the way he had me tied up. He pushed me onto my stomach and
tied my wrists to my ankles behind my back, making me feel definitely
"hogtied." I had misgivings, but it was too late. I could not move! If I had
made a mistake with this man, it was too late now. Whatever he wanted to do
with me, he was going to do.
He moved around me, adjusting and tightening the ropes. I laid there on my
stomach, my arms tied tightly together at the elbows, my knees bent with my
ankles up behind my back tied tightly to my wrists. I felt like a turkey
being prepared for the oven! He patted my butt soothingly and whispered
that he found me definitely attractive this way. He told me he was going to
introduce me to a new kind of passion. He was going to show me what I really
wanted, what kind of woman I really was. He said he recognized it when he
first saw me. He said he saw it in my eyes, the way I moved, the way I
dressed. He told me I would experience more passion and excitement in the
next few hours than most women know in a lifetime.
This man had taken such total control of me and something inside me made me
comply. I was scared and excited. I was fighting a growing panic that made
my heart beat so fast, yet at the same time, lying naked and bound on the
floor made that warm glow down in my tummy, the beginning of an orgasm. My
senses were electrified. No man had ever made me feel this way before. No
man had ever treated me so. Somehow, it seemed right. I was still scared,
though. I did not know what would happen next. I was trembling. He rolled
me onto my back. He went over my naked body with those lucious big hands,
kneading and massaging me, rubbing me with warm oils. He kissed and licked
every inch of my body with his warm, soft tongue, making me shiver as his
saliva dried on my naked flesh. He nibbled my earlobes, nuzzled my armpits,
tickling me deliciously. He sucked my toes and licked the soles of my feet!
He kissed me behind my knees, making me shudder with pleasure.It was such an
incredible, soothing, sensual experience. Then he traced a feather across my
body. He was so skilled, so sensual. It was an exquisitely sensual
sensation. I wondered how many women he had tickled with that feather. This
was foreplay in the extreme. No man had ever spent so much time with me. I
was in heaven! I shuddered, shiver, trembled and moaned as only the feather
moved ever so lightly over my skin.No man had ever been so attentive to me.
After the feather, his fingers moved soothingly over me. And into me. His
finger touched my diaphragm inside me. He frowned and forced his fingers
deeper into me, moving around inside me until he could pull my diaphragm out
of me. That was actually exciting. I had absolutely no protection from his
sperm. He did not care what I wanted. He said I have to give myself totally
to him. He said I am not allowed to put any barriers between him and me.
I opened my eyes when I felt a sharp, metallic sensation, scraping very
slowly across my skin. My eyes widened at the sight of a razor blade
between his fingers. He was moving it very carefully along my skin. He had
a very serious, intense expression on his face as he focused on the razor
blade, moving it slowly along my arm, the inside of my wrist, over my
breasts. I held my breath, afraid to protest. He did not seem to be
planning to hurt me, but he was very intensely involved in the razor blade
on my skin. The blade raised goosebumps on my flesh as it passed over me.
He outlined my breasts, circled my nipples, then scrapped it down along
my belly and futher, circling my vagina and tracing the blue vein along the
smooth skin of my inner thigh. That was my femur artery. I knew that if he
just knicked that artery I could very well bleed to death right there on
the carpet. If that was what he wanted. I waited for this game to play
itself out. I bit my lip. This was new territory for me. I thought I had
experienced it all with men, but I had never been treated like this.
As the blade moved along my skin, I felt overwhelmed by the intensity of
the moment. It was almost a ritual. I liked his seriousness. He was totally
focused on me, and the blade, like no man had ever focused on me before. I
was confident this was a game, a test of my trust. Still, I did not want to
be cut. I had no desire to be hurt. But I did want to impress him with my
trust.
He brought the blade back to my throat. He held it there, pressing it
against my skin. Harder. Harder. His eyes were serious. He remained quiet.
I remained passive, breathless. I looked up at him. I felt the blade cut
into my skin. The cut was stinging and burning. Warm blood flowed out of
the little cut. His face closed down. He was licking my throat, kissing my
cut. I felt his tongue, warm and rough, against my skin. I shivered. His
mouth was closed over the wound and I felt the suction as he sucked on my
blood. It was strangely erotic. Like a vampire feeding on his victim.
With my wrists tied behind my back I could do nothing. I watched him hold
my left breast in one hand, and flick my sensitive little nipple with his
fingers to make it stand up. He had a collection of objects -- some I
recognized and some I didn't -- scattered on the floor around me. He held a
strange looking metal clip with sharp, mean looking teeth over my nipple. I
braced myself and bit my lower lip, but I was not prepared for that sudden
sharp pain when he let go of the clip and it bit into my nipple. It was an
intensely sharp, burning pain that made me cry out and writhe in my ropes.
He held a second clamp over my other nipple and let it snap onto my nipple.
I could not help but gasp and cry. He liked the sounds I made and the way I
arched my back and wriggle against his ropes in the first moments as I
adjusted to the pain.
He left the clamps on for five minutes or so and my nipples were burning and
he gave the clamp a twist or tightened it down even more. He liked the way
my lower lip trembled when I was really hurting. Then he waited another five
minutes and tightened the clamp another twist or two. I could feel them
throbbing then. After awhile my nipples were not feeling any pain. I
probably could have worn those clamps all day at that point, but there would
have been nothing left of my nipples by then. When he did take the clamps
off, the pain was horrendous. My little nipples were on fire! It was truly
torture, and a sharp pain that I never really experienced before. When he
finally removed those clamps my little nipples were just crushed, flattened
and dented. He brushed my hair away from my face and kissed my nose. He
called me a bitch. He was smiling sweetly when he said it. The word sent a
chill through me. Then he told me I was a slut. No man had ever talked to me
that way.
I was overwhelmed and confused. This man had me trembling with fear, tense
with excitement, moaning with pleasure and gasping in pain as he played with
me.
He put me back on my belly with my arms back and tied my wrists to my
ankles. He praised my butt, patting it tenderly, then slapping it hard
enough to make me cry out. He made love to me from behind. He liked that
position, but the clamps came off when he pressed me into the floor. He was
pretty heavy and there was no way I could keep my chest off the floor.
He put it in my cunt first and rammed into me with an incredible speed and
rhythm. I liked that! He had me moaning and crying out. While he was
fucking me this way, he started playing with my asshole. This really got me
hot and I started wriggling my ass and thrusting my hips back at him. He
took his cock out and put it to the entrance to my ass. He sort of
hesitated.
He was very gentle at first, then he just started to pump harder and harder.
He was really getting turned on! He was almost incoherent. I buried my face
into a pillow as he rammed me viciously. The force of his thrusts were
rattling the windows so hard it seemed the glass would break any second. I
worried someone might hear the noise and investigate. It hurt so much it
felt so good.
He came very quickly and his cock got soft and fell out of me. He laid next
to me, stroking my long hair, rubbing my back, my butt with his big hands,
kissing my neck, telling me how much he was enjoying himself. He rolled me
over onto my side and kissed my tender nipples for about 10 minutes. Soon he
was playing with my little clit. He moved his fingers very fast and light
over my clit and vagina. Faster and faster. I started to pant and moan and
he sped up those fingers. I came REAL HARD, gasping and crying, but he kept
playing with me, so I had to beg him to stop, it was hurting me. He turned my
back to him and imediately I felt him hardening and pressing against my ass
again. I spread my legs as much as the ropes allowed and his hard cock slipped
right into my asshole.
His fucking was slower and less frenzied this time. He drove his weight down
into me. He ran his hands through my tangled hair, entwining my long hair
around his hands. He pulled back on my hair, lifting my head back, making me
cry out in pain. He rode me like I was a horse and my hair were reins as he
humped into me harder and harder. He drove the breath out of me. I gritted
my teeth, bit my lower lip. There was so little I could do. He was in such
total control.
No man had ever made love to me like this. His free hand gripped my hanging
left breast, squeezing and kneading. His fingers found my throbbing nipple
and pinched it cruelly as he rode me rougher and rough. I cried out and he
took his hand away from my breast and gripped my face, forcing his finger
into my mouth. With my head held back by his grip on my hair, and him
ramming into my rear, he finger fucked my mouth. He went on like that
forever, occasionally taking his hand away from my face to squeeze my
breasts or slap my butt hard as he rode me. It seemed like forever before I
finally felt his cock tense up inside my ass. He froze over me. He stopped
breathing for a moment, then his cock spasmed and his come oozed down my
thigh.
He left me lying tied up on my belly when he was finished with me. He
ignored me, even when I asked if he would untie me. I laid there helpless as
he picked up my purse and sat down in a big leather chair. I watched as he
opened my purse and went through my things, going through the pictures of my
nieces and nephews, my credit cards and fourteen dollars in my wallet. He
checked out my perfume, my lipstick, my collection of makeup. He laughed
when he found my little cannister of pepper spray.
I slept in his bed that night. Sometimes he held me. Mostly he slept with
his back to me. He never untied me. During the night I felt the bed shake a
little and I am sure he was masturbating. I laid there, falling asleep
listening to him breathe, feeling his heart beat, feeling his warmth,
inhaling his masculine primative musky scent. His arrousing manly aroma
enveloped me. I woke up in the middle of the night. From the way he was
breathing I could tell he was in a deep sleep. It took me awhile to realize
the knot tying my wrists behind my back had loosened. My nipples still
throbbed with pain. My shoulders ached from the way he had tied my arms. I
quietly worked my wrists free, then freed my ankles without disturbing his
sleep. I crept out of the room and tiptoed down the stairs, fearful that at
any moment he might leap out of the darkness, grab me by my hair and drag me
back to his bed. I banged my head into an open closet door. I rattled a vase
when I knocked my knee against a table. My heart was pounding furiously. I
was prepared to run out of the house naked and screaming if I heard the
slightest sound from upstairs. The house was silent, though. I found my
blouse and skirt piled carelessly around the living room. My bra and panties
were singed and ruined. I left them lying on the floor. I dressed hurriedly.
I did not bother looking for my bracelets or earrings. I found my wallet
and purse on his coffee table, but did not bother trying to collect the
perfume and makeup scattered around the dark room. I was immensely relieved
to find my car keys in my puruse. I could find only one shoe, so I walked on
barefoot, carrying my shoe in my hand. On my way through the living room I
noticed a hook in the ceiling, a whip on the coffee table and behind the
sofa a video camera on a tripod pointing at the middle of the room where I
had been tied up hours earlier.
I walked barefoot into the cold air of the night, being ever so quiet so I
would not disturb the big dog in the backyard. The thought occured to me
that the dog must be used to women sneaking out of the house this way. If he
did this to me on our first date, he must treat other women this way, too.
As soon as I got in my car, I locked the doors. I felt like I was escaping
from him. He had me so confused. Was I supposed to go to the police? I
hadn't been raped. I was terrified, yet it was exciting. He had definitely
been a wonderful, expert lover, and if he had wanted to, he could easily
have killed me when he had me helplessly tied up on his living room floor.
My nipples still throbbed and my shoulders ached, but he had not really hurt
me. I was certainly not injured. I drove down the long driveway with my
headlights off, looking in the rearview mirror to see if he was coming after
me.
The END
