WARNING: Fairly graphic description of the sex act.
The final knot, the one that fastened Vivian's ankles to the footstool, was tightened and Vivian was now helpless. She could feel the ropes around her ankles squeeze her skin just a little harder as Stephen finished his horrible chore. She said nothing. He mouth was too dry to speak. Besides, Stephen had refused to answer all her pitiful queries. He wasn't going to tell her what was going top happen to her. Vivian could only speculate.
Yes, her mouth was dry, but her eyes were not. Tears welled in her head and began running down her cheeks. She could feel them falling off her chin and onto her shoulders and breasts. She made no noise, yet tears drained from her eyes until her face and upper body were covered with moisture.
"Don't cry, my love," Stepen said in a voice that was surprisingly sincere. No mocking. No hostility. He really DIDN'T want her to cry. Why would he think she wouldn't? Vivian was frightened. She had never been so frightened. Not even close. Didn't Stephen realize that? What would any girl do in a situation like this? Any reassurance that she was safe from harm wasn't going to stop Vivian from crying.
Stephen went to the dresser and opened a drawer. He pulled out a length of cloth, neatly folded in a rectangle. Vivian shuddered. No, he wouldn't! But she was no more relieved when she saw him bring the cloth to her eyes. He wasn't going to dry her tears. She was about to be blindfolded.
"No," Vivian said, wishing she had the strength in her mouth to scream it. The no just wasn't loud enough, nor was the sorry excuse of a "don't" that followed it. "Please, no," Vivian said in a voice too trembly to carry any force behind it. Stephen, of course, paid he no mind at all. On went the blindfold. Vivian shook her head in an effort to make Stephen's task more difficult. It didn't work. Stephen tied the knot behind her head and Vivian's world went dark.
The sound of bare feet smacking the wooden floor, then hitting the iron steps of the circular staircase. Oh, God, Vivian thought. He's leaving her. Leaving her tied up in a chair. Tied up in a manner from which she could never free herself on her own. Vivian wanted to call out to him, but said nothing. Soon, there was no more noise. Stephen was gone. She was alone in a cold attic. She could not see. She could not move. She struggled against the ropes that held her torso to the chair, and her ankles to the footstool. She wriggled, not so much to get free, but to see just how much movement she had. There was little. She could flex her feet, but only in unison as Viv's toes were tied tightly to each other. She could wiggle her fingers and make fists, but with her arms securely behind her there was no point in that. She wigggled her bare butt, evn though it only made her more uncomfortable for the fractions of an inch she could reposition it. She could turn her head, but being blindfolded left her nothing to see. Soon, she sat motionless in her ropes. Again Vivian began to cry, cry a pitiful bath of tears. Her lower lip quivered. Her nose ran. Her wailing was the only sound in the attic where only she sat, helpless and alone.
She was being tortured. Left alone tied up so thoroughly was a psychological torture Vivian couldn't bear. Again she speculated on what his motives were. Leaving her alone like that suggested kidnapping. Vivian still couldn't get the notion out of her head that she was to be physically tortured. What about those candles? She remembered her college friend, Stacy, who for some odd reason knew all about the kinky side of sex, and the men who got their kicks from torturing women. Stacy knew about the practice of binding a naked woman and dripping hot candle wax on her belly, breasts, even her vagina if she had a shaved crotch (Stacy had one, Vivian did not). Stacy knew about flogging, beating the soles of a woman's feet, suspension, the strong metal clamps placed on a woman's nipples, mild electric shocks. She spoke about it to the other girls on their floor of the dormitory, much the way a cub scout would tell scary stories around a campfire at night. Viv asked Stacy if any of these things had been done to her. Stacy always paused, smiled and said "no." Was she lying? Hell, Viv had seen Stacy in the shower. There were no marks of any abuse. Was Stacy just trying to scare the others or impress them? Was she just full of crap?
Maybe, but no doubt Vivian's old roomie knew these things happened. Were they about to happen to Viv? What about those candles? Her breasts felt so exposed, especially with the cold air in the attic stiffening her nipples. She sobbed...sobbed...sobbed...
How long was it? An hour? Longer? Vivian couldn't tell. It mattered not. Oh, when was he coming back? But what would he do when he did? She thought about screaming, but figured it would do no good. If it would have, no doubt Stephen would have gagged her.
Finally, the sound of bare feet ascending the staircase. "Stephen?" Viv asked meekly. No answer. She could hear the dresser drawer open. What was this man taking from it? Something to torture her? Vivian's toes were icy cold. Her hands had long ago lost feeling. The goosebumps along her naked skin were as much out of fear as the chilly air. Viv could sense Stephen kneeling next to her, on her right side. He touched her shoulder. She trembled, then pulled it away from him.
"Everything will be all right, my beautiful Vivian," Stephen said in almost a whisper. He began stroking her right breast. Vivian froze. She didn't want this man pawing her, yet she knew she was in no position to make him angry. Her breath heaved a little as the palm of Stephen's hand gently passed over her nipple. "No," she said in a pathetically weak voice. "Don't do this to me." He had no answer. He kept his fingers lightly dancing up and down her naked breast. Then he kissed her. Vivian was stunned. Stephen kissed her on the mouth, a tender kiss that said "I love you" far more than it said "you're my prisoner and I will have my way with you." Stephen kissed her again, this time longer and more passionate. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her brow, then her nose, then her mouth again. It was as sweet as any kiss Vivian had voluntarily given this many only hours earlier, when she heard the bells and whistles and was happy she was naked and had such a wonderful man pinning her wrists to the pillow, with his tongue in her mouth, with his penis in her **** so aflame with arousal.
But Vivian was cold now. She wanted to bite him, spit at him, anything to let him know she hated him for tying her up naked in this attic and now running his hands and mouth over her. But she was afraid. So afraid. Vivian allowed Stephen to kiss her. If this was all he would do, perhaps she was reasonably lucky.
Viv felt Stephen pull away from her. He made some movement Viv could not decipher. Suddenly, a light touch on her right nipple, now rock hard from his strokes and his sensual kisses. Viv hated herself for becoming erect, but she was helpless to do anything about it.
"Ahhhhhhh," Viv gasped as she felt no more than a pinprick on the tip of her cold bare nipple. It was not Stephen's fingers, or his tongue. those would be too blunt to strike such a tiny part of her body. Again, a light but sharp point touched her long, pink nipple.
"Ahhh-hhhhh-hhhhhhh." Vivian tried hard to figure out what was tormenting her. She shook and wriggled in vain to try to shield her breast from whatever device Stephen was using to torture her. With her blindfold firmly on, Vivian could only guess. A minute or so later, the needle-like instrument delicately touched her flesh again, this time running like a knife blade across her bare, goosebumped breast. Was it a knife? Was Stephen pulling a kife blade ever so softly across her shivering skin? No, there was no pain. Viv felt no blood drawn. What could be so sharp, yet so small as to localize itself on the tip of her nipple? Stephen slowly, seductively drew the point across Viv's breasts. She shivered some more, and even let out a little giggle.
Oh, please, no!!! It was the tip of a feather!!!!
The final knot, the one that fastened Vivian's ankles to the footstool, was tightened and Vivian was now helpless. She could feel the ropes around her ankles squeeze her skin just a little harder as Stephen finished his horrible chore. She said nothing. He mouth was too dry to speak. Besides, Stephen had refused to answer all her pitiful queries. He wasn't going to tell her what was going top happen to her. Vivian could only speculate.
Yes, her mouth was dry, but her eyes were not. Tears welled in her head and began running down her cheeks. She could feel them falling off her chin and onto her shoulders and breasts. She made no noise, yet tears drained from her eyes until her face and upper body were covered with moisture.
"Don't cry, my love," Stepen said in a voice that was surprisingly sincere. No mocking. No hostility. He really DIDN'T want her to cry. Why would he think she wouldn't? Vivian was frightened. She had never been so frightened. Not even close. Didn't Stephen realize that? What would any girl do in a situation like this? Any reassurance that she was safe from harm wasn't going to stop Vivian from crying.
Stephen went to the dresser and opened a drawer. He pulled out a length of cloth, neatly folded in a rectangle. Vivian shuddered. No, he wouldn't! But she was no more relieved when she saw him bring the cloth to her eyes. He wasn't going to dry her tears. She was about to be blindfolded.
"No," Vivian said, wishing she had the strength in her mouth to scream it. The no just wasn't loud enough, nor was the sorry excuse of a "don't" that followed it. "Please, no," Vivian said in a voice too trembly to carry any force behind it. Stephen, of course, paid he no mind at all. On went the blindfold. Vivian shook her head in an effort to make Stephen's task more difficult. It didn't work. Stephen tied the knot behind her head and Vivian's world went dark.
The sound of bare feet smacking the wooden floor, then hitting the iron steps of the circular staircase. Oh, God, Vivian thought. He's leaving her. Leaving her tied up in a chair. Tied up in a manner from which she could never free herself on her own. Vivian wanted to call out to him, but said nothing. Soon, there was no more noise. Stephen was gone. She was alone in a cold attic. She could not see. She could not move. She struggled against the ropes that held her torso to the chair, and her ankles to the footstool. She wriggled, not so much to get free, but to see just how much movement she had. There was little. She could flex her feet, but only in unison as Viv's toes were tied tightly to each other. She could wiggle her fingers and make fists, but with her arms securely behind her there was no point in that. She wigggled her bare butt, evn though it only made her more uncomfortable for the fractions of an inch she could reposition it. She could turn her head, but being blindfolded left her nothing to see. Soon, she sat motionless in her ropes. Again Vivian began to cry, cry a pitiful bath of tears. Her lower lip quivered. Her nose ran. Her wailing was the only sound in the attic where only she sat, helpless and alone.
She was being tortured. Left alone tied up so thoroughly was a psychological torture Vivian couldn't bear. Again she speculated on what his motives were. Leaving her alone like that suggested kidnapping. Vivian still couldn't get the notion out of her head that she was to be physically tortured. What about those candles? She remembered her college friend, Stacy, who for some odd reason knew all about the kinky side of sex, and the men who got their kicks from torturing women. Stacy knew about the practice of binding a naked woman and dripping hot candle wax on her belly, breasts, even her vagina if she had a shaved crotch (Stacy had one, Vivian did not). Stacy knew about flogging, beating the soles of a woman's feet, suspension, the strong metal clamps placed on a woman's nipples, mild electric shocks. She spoke about it to the other girls on their floor of the dormitory, much the way a cub scout would tell scary stories around a campfire at night. Viv asked Stacy if any of these things had been done to her. Stacy always paused, smiled and said "no." Was she lying? Hell, Viv had seen Stacy in the shower. There were no marks of any abuse. Was Stacy just trying to scare the others or impress them? Was she just full of crap?
Maybe, but no doubt Vivian's old roomie knew these things happened. Were they about to happen to Viv? What about those candles? Her breasts felt so exposed, especially with the cold air in the attic stiffening her nipples. She sobbed...sobbed...sobbed...
How long was it? An hour? Longer? Vivian couldn't tell. It mattered not. Oh, when was he coming back? But what would he do when he did? She thought about screaming, but figured it would do no good. If it would have, no doubt Stephen would have gagged her.
Finally, the sound of bare feet ascending the staircase. "Stephen?" Viv asked meekly. No answer. She could hear the dresser drawer open. What was this man taking from it? Something to torture her? Vivian's toes were icy cold. Her hands had long ago lost feeling. The goosebumps along her naked skin were as much out of fear as the chilly air. Viv could sense Stephen kneeling next to her, on her right side. He touched her shoulder. She trembled, then pulled it away from him.
"Everything will be all right, my beautiful Vivian," Stephen said in almost a whisper. He began stroking her right breast. Vivian froze. She didn't want this man pawing her, yet she knew she was in no position to make him angry. Her breath heaved a little as the palm of Stephen's hand gently passed over her nipple. "No," she said in a pathetically weak voice. "Don't do this to me." He had no answer. He kept his fingers lightly dancing up and down her naked breast. Then he kissed her. Vivian was stunned. Stephen kissed her on the mouth, a tender kiss that said "I love you" far more than it said "you're my prisoner and I will have my way with you." Stephen kissed her again, this time longer and more passionate. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her brow, then her nose, then her mouth again. It was as sweet as any kiss Vivian had voluntarily given this many only hours earlier, when she heard the bells and whistles and was happy she was naked and had such a wonderful man pinning her wrists to the pillow, with his tongue in her mouth, with his penis in her **** so aflame with arousal.
But Vivian was cold now. She wanted to bite him, spit at him, anything to let him know she hated him for tying her up naked in this attic and now running his hands and mouth over her. But she was afraid. So afraid. Vivian allowed Stephen to kiss her. If this was all he would do, perhaps she was reasonably lucky.
Viv felt Stephen pull away from her. He made some movement Viv could not decipher. Suddenly, a light touch on her right nipple, now rock hard from his strokes and his sensual kisses. Viv hated herself for becoming erect, but she was helpless to do anything about it.
"Ahhhhhhh," Viv gasped as she felt no more than a pinprick on the tip of her cold bare nipple. It was not Stephen's fingers, or his tongue. those would be too blunt to strike such a tiny part of her body. Again, a light but sharp point touched her long, pink nipple.
"Ahhh-hhhhh-hhhhhhh." Vivian tried hard to figure out what was tormenting her. She shook and wriggled in vain to try to shield her breast from whatever device Stephen was using to torture her. With her blindfold firmly on, Vivian could only guess. A minute or so later, the needle-like instrument delicately touched her flesh again, this time running like a knife blade across her bare, goosebumped breast. Was it a knife? Was Stephen pulling a kife blade ever so softly across her shivering skin? No, there was no pain. Viv felt no blood drawn. What could be so sharp, yet so small as to localize itself on the tip of her nipple? Stephen slowly, seductively drew the point across Viv's breasts. She shivered some more, and even let out a little giggle.
Oh, please, no!!! It was the tip of a feather!!!!
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