Her Pain is Her Pleasure Ch. 01

Libby hummed to herself under her breath as she pushed the cart up and down the deserted aisles. She loved the relative peace of the grocery store at this time of night. Her son was asleep, and her husband was in his usual spot watching late-night cartoons. A half frown passed across her naturally full lips—cock-sucking lips Drew called them—as she replayed the events of that evening in her mind.

It had been a typical Friday night—she made dinner, he did the dishes while she put Caleb to bed, then they had sex after the boy was asleep. She couldn't really complain about the sex, or Drew. He was attractive and also very considerate. He always brought her to orgasm at least twice, with his fingers, his mouth, or his thrusting penis, before finishing himself. Their sex life had experienced the ebbs and flows typical of a couple that had been married almost ten years, though lately the ebb seemed to have unpacked its bags and taken up permanent residence in their bedroom, Libby thought. They had brought in the usual suspects to "spice" things up—lingerie (a lacy teddy for her, silk boxers for him), massage oil, and even a discreetly-packaged vibrator she ordered online—but Libby could never shake the feeling that something was wrong. No, wrong was not the right word...missing. Something was missing. She had no idea what this nebulous absent thing was, though, or where to even begin looking for it.

After their run-of-the-mill Friday night sex, Drew had given her a quick kiss, and then went off to work on deepening the ass-shaped groove in his favorite couch cushion. Libby curled up in bed with a book, but after ten minutes of reading and re-reading the same page she decided that escapism wasn't going to be effective tonight. She put the book aside, stretched out across the bed, and released a big sigh. "Is this it?" she asked herself. Had she already experienced the best sex she was ever going to have? Was the adequate love-making that she had with Drew going to be the status-quo for the rest of her life? The thought depressed her.

Libby jumped up and began to dress. She had to get out of the house, even if it was for just half an hour. That was how she wound up doing the Saturday grocery shopping at 11:50 PM on a Friday.

No one was there to greet her when she entered the sliding glass door at the front of the store. The store appeared to be deserted, but considering that there were two cars parked out front and the doors were unlocked, there must still be a couple of employees here somewhere, she thought to herself. She hurried to grab the few things she needed before the grocery store closed at midnight. Her thoughts drifted back to her feelings of sexual frustration as she walked up and down the aisles on autopilot.

Lost in an internal dialogue about the plusses and minuses of her current sex life, Libby failed to notice the tall figure approach as she bent down to retrieve a carton of eggs from the cooler, until a large hand snaked across her fact and covered her mouth. She was yanked backwards, held in place by that single muscular arm against a hard, masculine body. Libby began to cry out instinctively, but stopped when she felt a sharp point at the side of her throat, digging into her flesh.

"Don't make a sound," a deep, gritty voice breathed hotly into her ear. "Come."

He half pushed, half dragged her into the back of the store, through a maze of boxes and shelves, to an out of the way corner that could easily be overlooked unless you knew exactly where it was.

"Stand facing the wall, with your back to me and your hands behind you. Don't think about trying to look at me, or move unless I tell you to. I'll hurt you if I have to, and enjoy it, but I don't think you'll feel quite the same way about the experience." He pressed the point of the knife to the side of Libby's neck again, piercing the skin and drawing a drop of blood this time as a reminder of the consequences of disobeying.

Libby couldn't believe this was happening to her. She knew she should be shaking with fear right now, but what was about to happen to her seemed so unreal that she was numb. She felt something soft being pressed into her hands.

The gravelly voice spoke again. "It's a blindfold. Tie it around your face, tight. Make sure you can't see. I will know if your vision isn't completely obscured, and you won't like the consequences."

Libby obeyed. Her mind had started working again, at least well enough to realize two things: one, that he was deliberately modifying his voice to make it deeper and unrecognizable, meaning that he could be almost anyone; and two, that the safest option was to follow his orders completely and do whatever he instructed.

There was a loud ripping sound. The stranger's big hands latched onto her arms, pulling them roughly behind her back, bending her elbows and overlapping her forearms, then binding them together with tape. He covered her mouth and nose again with his rigid palm, pressed tightly enough to cut her breath off. His other arm wrapped around her mid-section and held her in place against him while he controlled her breathing for the space of a couple dozen seconds. Libby gasped in air when he finally released the pressure on her mouth, and he took this opportunity to push two of his thick digits in between her open lips and over her tongue. They pushed in and out of her oral passage, mimicking the sex act. She gagged from the feeling of his fingers deep within her throat. Tears gathered in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks.

The fingers were abruptly removed from her mouth and replaced with a gag. The assailant grabbed her long brown hair in his fist and pulled her along. She was extremely disoriented at this point and afraid of walking into one of the many towers of boxes, causing it to fall down and crush her, but she had no choice other than compliance. Shortly they stopped walking and Libby was pushed down to the ground, then her ankles were wrapped with more of the tight tape.

"Stay still, and be quiet, or I'll do more than poke you with my knife the next time," growled mystery voice. The sound of a door slamming shut could be heard, and then the young suburban housewife was alone in some sort of small room or closet.

After what felt like an eternity of lying on the floor, shaking from the adrenaline that pumped through her body to ready her for fight or flight, Libby finally heard her assailant return. She was suddenly yanked to a standing position by her arms. The quick motion was unexpected and she stumbled, pulling away. He didn't like this and pushed her up against the wall, pressing his large, muscular frame into her soft body. She became acutely aware of her breasts for a moment as they were mashed up against his chest, and shivered. His big hand wrapped around her neck, not squeezing hard enough to truly choke her, but with enough pressure to show her that he easily could if he so desired.

"Don't you fucking mess with me or try to resist. If you are a good girl and do what I tell you, I promise you won't be permanently damaged. You may even enjoy yourself if I have my way. But if you cross me I don't know that I'll be able to keep that promise."

Her body was pressed harder against the wall and she felt his knee at her crotch, then grinding into it. Rough fingers groped at her soft breast through shirt and bra, and Libby gasped as her nipple was pinched.

"What's it going to be? Are you going to be a good little slut for me?" growled the deep voice.

Words did not come to her. She couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't let it happen, but didn't know what she could say or do to stop it. What was this man going to do—rape her, or something even worse than that? What would Drew think?

The unknown man grew tired of her unresponsiveness and slapped her hard across the face, leaving a bright red hand print across her cheek. She was shocked and didn't know whether to cry or dissolve into hysterical laughter. Worst of all, she began to feel a warm tingling sensation between her legs, one that she didn't want to examine too closely.

"Well, slut? Are you going to behave?" Libby gave a hard nod in the affirmative. "Good girl."

Hands groped at her chest again. A sob threatened to escape from her mouth, but she clamped her lips down hard and smothered it. She might be totally helpless, but at least she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. The invisible hands gripped either side of the V formed by the undone buttons at the top of her pink and cream striped shirt and yanked, splitting it open down the middle, then pushing it off of her shoulders and down her arms until its descent was halted by the duct-tape binding. The jeans came next, leaving Libby's creamy skin bared to the cold back-room air, save for her lacy black bra and panties.

"Mmmmmm, very nice. The slut likes pretty lingerie, does she? Did you wear this just for me, little slut?"

A cool hand slipped into the right cup of her bra and pulled out her breast. The feel of sharp teeth biting at her right nipple saved her from answering the rhetorical question, aside from a whimper. The man worked the hard nub with his teeth, nipping at it, rolling it back and forth between his incisors, sucking, massaging with his tongue. Then she felt nearly her entire breast being pulled into his hot mouth, where he simultaneously sucked and bit lightly on her tit. She unsuccessfully tried to stifle a gasp. Libby knew her nipples were wired; the slightest sensation applied to them went straight to her cunt, and playing with the long pink nubs was always guaranteed to get her in the mood. She'd never felt anything as intense as this, though. The simultaneous pain and pleasure solicited an involuntary reaction that she was helpless to control, causing her to push her breast farther into the assailant's mouth.

She could scarcely believe her body was reacting this way. Libby was disoriented, terrified, her nipples hurt. And yet her skin tingled, felt like it was on fire where his hands had touched her. She unsuccessfully tried to suppress a shudder. She struggled against her bonds again, and cried out when he pushed her harder into the wall, his knee riding up against her pussy, half lifting her off of the ground. He pinned her shoulders to the wall with one arm, molesting her bare breasts with his free hand, pinching, squeezing, pulling on her nipples hard. This was wrong, she could not allow herself to give in, to let him sense her shameful secret - that she was becoming extremely aroused by his rough, unrelenting ministrations. She felt his teeth on her breast, biting her, much harder than before, and cried out in pain, tears escaping from the corners of her eyes and dampening the blindfold. Then the feeling of his teeth was replaced by the wet warmth of his tongue, soothing where he had bitten her. She moaned against her volition, and again when she felt his fingers slipping under the waistband of her panties, running down across the smooth flesh of her belly, pushing into her cleft.

"Well well well. I think someone is enjoying herself. You are sopping wet, little girl. Do you like being molested? Well, do you?" She shook her head, and he slapped her face, then her breasts. "I know you're lying. Your body tells me you are absolutely loving this. When I was following you around the store earlier, you looked so sweet and innocent. I had no idea you'd turn out to be such a filthy little slut. I bet you just can't wait for me to fuck this tight, wet little pussy of yours."

He pushed his fingers up inside of her as he spoke those last words. She squeezed around his fingers and groaned through the gag, but wasn't sure if it was in denial or affirmation of his words. He removed his hand from her crotch, pulled her away from the wall, and pushed her down onto what felt like a table. She felt him strapping her torso to the table with more tape. Then there was the sharp point of his knife again, skimming down her thigh, over her calf, cutting through the tape at her ankles. Before she could muster the strength to kick out at him, however, he grabbed one ankle in each of his hands, then wrapped one leg at a time in tape, strapping them to the legs of the table so that she was spread eagle and completely open to him. She felt the knife again, this time at her crotch, slicing through her soaked panties, and let out a sob.

Her recently shaved pussy was open to the air, and she could practically feel his eyes caressing her now completely exposed body in all its vulnerability. His finger tip teased down along the crease between her legs, feather soft, barely touching. Up and down, grazing the pink, moist inner folds of her sex just the slightest bit. It was agony, to be so intimately exposed and violated like this by someone she had never even laid eyes on. And yet she began to feel her pussy tingle and start to drip again, and it was all she could do not to thrust her hips up into the air and penetrate herself on his finger as it traced over her sensitive hole.

That thought was like a cold splash of water. What was she doing? What could she possibly be thinking? Was she actually enjoying this? How could she betray Drew, not to mention her personal dignity, by encouraging this sick fuck? He was trying to rape her, and she was practically inviting it!

She began to struggle against her bonds, throwing her torso back and forth on the table, yanking first one leg, then the other, trying to escape from the grip of the tape. Her violent motions caused the table to begin rocking back and forth.

"Stop that! You're going to tip over and hurt yourself!" He slapped her across the face to drive home his point, but she was near hysterics at this point and wouldn't stop, couldn't stop thrashing. That is, until she felt a sudden burning sensation on her pussy, a second, a third. She cried out in pain as her sensitive cunt was struck again and again, stinging her clitoris and the lips of her labia. The shock of the blows to her pussy broke through the hysteria and she lay still on the table, shaking with adrenaline and sobbing against the gag. As soon as her struggles ceased, so did the beating. A warm hand cupped her mons and squeezed it lightly, soothing her and making it better somehow, though she continued to cry. Now that she was no longer wracked with pain, she felt that warm tingling sensation deep in her groin again, even more pronounced this time, and a wetness at the apex of her thighs.

"What's wrong little girl? Did that hurt you? Or did it feel good?" She shook her head hard, afraid of the real answer. "Hmmmm, your wet cunt says otherwise. It's sopping wet, in fact I can see your juices running out of your hole and dripping down your thigh. I think I've found myself a little whore who likes to be hurt. I think you liked the feel of my belt whipping your cunt. Almost as much as you're going to like what I am going to do to you next."

Two thick fingers pushed deep into her sopping wet hole and began to thrust in and out of her, once, twice, three times. Then they stopped and were still deep inside of her. Nearly a minute passed, and the unknown assailant did and said nothing.

Libby breathed heavily, tensed and on edge. Why wasn't he doing anything, she wondered. He just stood there, his hand on her pussy, digits pressed firmly inside her but not moving. She experienced a full body shiver, which caused her to quiver against his hand. A bolt of pleasure shot up through her groin, all the way to the top of her head and down to the tips of her toes. She gasped, and froze, panting. She couldn't help herself and moved again, pressing herself into his hand, rocking slightly against his fingers. He responded by placing his thumb against her erect clit and pressing his hand into her. Her cheeks burned hot with humiliation, but she couldn't help herself. The frustration, helplessness, pain, fear, and unwelcome arousal she was experiencing had wound her up so tightly that she feared she would snap. Maybe she HAD snapped, for she began to undulate back and forth rhythmically, as much as her bonds would allow, riding his hand.

He rewarded her by thrusting his fingers into her slippery passage in time with her body, letting her set the pace, quickening as she lost herself in the exquisite rhythm. Harder, faster, until he was practically slamming his hand like a battering ram against her now sloppy wet cunt as she jerked her hips up and down off the table with all of her strength. He added a third finger, then a fourth, stretching her swollen pussy until half of his hand was inside of her tight hole. Only his thumb pressed against her hard little nub prevented him from fisting her completely. The bonds strained as she writhed in an attempt to take more and more of his hand inside her. Her sex simultaneously stung from the abuse and stretching that it was taking, but was also humming in pleasure from the intensity of the hand fucking and aching for more of the pleasure-pain. She didn't understand it, this was a completely new sensation for her, but some deeply-buried primal need had taken over her and pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind.

Something dark and thick and velvety, pulsing with unleashed energy, had been gradually building deep inside of her. Now it was a raging, roiling thing with a mind of its own. Libby was afraid her body would be overcome if this force was not released, but it remained elusive, refusing to surface. Then a hand gripped her breast tightly, digging nails into soft flesh, twisting, clawing at her sensitive skin. The sensation ran from her breast straight to her stuffed cunt, like a hot spark along a wire, and she exploded.

It was the most intense orgasm she had ever known, ten times stronger than anything she had experienced with her husband Drew. Every hair on her body stood up on end as the contractions rippled up and down her wet canal, squeezing tightly around the hand still lodged in it, then radiated out all the way to her finger tips and toes.

Libby slumped against the table, reduced to a puddle of post-orgasm bliss. The endorphin rush that was the combined result of bondage, erotic pain, and sexual pleasure caused her to forget where she was or what had happened momentarily. The next thing she knew, she was being covered with something soft and warm, and then there was complete silence, aside from the sound of her own deep breaths. Libby was alone. Her assailant had disappeared as unexpectedly as he had arrived. She wondered who this mysterious person was, and why he hadn't raped her, but before she could begin to formulate a theory the exhaustion took over and she slipped out of consciousness.

-----

The feeling of a hand shaking her shoulder and the blindfold being removed from her head awoke her. She opened her eyes and caught a glimpse of the policeman who had roused her, and immediately regretted it when the blinding flashlight stung her eyes. "It's going to be ok sweetie, you're safe now. We're going to get you out of here, take you to the hospital. They'll take good care of you."

-----

Three days later Libby still didn't fully understand what had happened in the store, but she now knew Drew's side of the story and how she had been found by the police. When she hadn't come home or called by 12:30, a full half hour after the grocery store closed, Drew began to worry. Especially when he hadn't been able to reach her mobile number. An hour later and still no sign he had called the police and asked them to look for her. They found Libby's car parked out front and the lights in the grocery store turned off, but the front door was unlocked and stood wide open. A full search had revealed no occupants, aside from Libby who was strapped naked to a table in the back and asleep. A medical exam revealed no biological evidence that could assist in discovering the identity of her attacker. No hairs or bodily fluids, no skin under the fingernails, none of the stuff that you see in medical and forensic dramas.