tagNonConsent/ReluctanceMy Nameless Fantasy

My Nameless Fantasy

byMeanderingpoet©

You were planning at visiting me at school. We had agreed that you’d drive up to see me on a certain date. You arrive a few days ahead of schedule; the Sunday before you told me you'd arrive. And of course I am very, very surprised to see you, a little flustered, and perhaps angry, you pick up on. It makes you a trifle suspicious. And rightfully so. But you decide not to act on it just, not wanting to seem weird.

So you sit down with me, and we're cuddling and talking, and you're very glad to see me, of course...But I seem just a little withdrawn. You're about to ask me about why I seem not quite so happy to see you, when the phone rings. And it's the double ring, so you can tell it's an outside line. I let it ring a few times, and glance at you before answering the phone. I talk in a hushed tone, so you can't hear me too well, which I'm sure makes red blinking lights and sirens go off in your head. You hear me mention you and I shake my head. I say something about "later," and you hear your name again, and none too happily.

Once I'm finished with the phone I look over to you, and of course you look unhappy. You look nearly smoldering, but also you seem to be trying to tell yourself that there is a perfectly explainable concept to the whole thing.

"Well?" You ask me. The mix of your emotions spilling into the one word. I am standing, and you are sitting on my bed, and I walk to sit next to you. I offer you the transparent excuse that I just had to cancel plans with friends. You are obviously doubting me, so I pounce on you.

I say all the reassuring things like "You didn't think it was someone important, do you?" I ask. I laugh. You can tell something is going own, because I look nervous. I try to appease you again "You don't think I'd fuck around on you wearing this, do you?" I gesture to my plain old t-shirt and jeans. I'm barefoot, and my hair it kinda messy. It does seem plausible that I wasn't exactly dressed up.

You ease a bit, but stuff just doesn't seem quite right. But, you decide to let it go. You think you should trust me, because you love me. So you hold me, we lie down on my bed, and we start kissing, and touching, lightly. I'm touching your face and smiling, but it's not exactly a happy smile, and you can tell that you picked a bad day to show up.

You start to pull my shirt up, and as you pull your arms up with my shirt I click handcuffs on you, attached to the headboard. And it's good that you're handcuffed, because you can see marks on my chest and shoulders. Bite marks. And they are not your own.

Your eyes go very wide, and for a second you can't talk at all. You start a whole list of accusations "Who?!" "How could you?" And then you say more choice phrases, denouncing me as a whore and whatnot. And of course you struggle. But they aren't cheap handcuffs with the switch you can flick and get free, they are real police cuffs, so you are stuck.

When you get too loud I hit you hard against the face. And then I kiss you, very gently. Like I'm testing you. You don't bite my lips off, but you do not kiss back, either. You just glare at me. So I scoot down and remove your pants. And you fight and kick, but I get them off eventually.

I then kneel and begin to breathe on your cock. I don't touch it right away, I just tease it. And you get hard, which makes you even angrier. You shout the meanest things at me, you threaten me and yell, and struggle. But I am perfectly placid because I know you cannot get out of those cuffs. I hit you again. With a closed fist. I don't want you to draw too much attention to us with your shouts.

Once I get you completely hard by gentle licking and fondling, I go down on you in earnest. I enjoy the sounds of you being betrayed of your body, your moans and gasps coupled with your whispered threats. “If I get out of this, I will hurt you.” You promise. Or better yet your labored breath as you try to fight your body! You would try to remain silent in order to not give me any satisfaction, but that only makes the sounds that escape your lips louder and more desperate. I'm very patient, and your anger turns you on as much as I do, and I get you very close.

And then I get off you. I give you a quick kiss and saunter away. I laugh softly at your looks of hate, and start to remove my clothing, right in front of you. And even through your glaring I can tell you are watching me. My shirt was already removed, but I slowly peel away my pants, underwear and bra. All very caressingly and painfully for your erection. I even get close enough that you are touching my bare skin. You try to bite me. I laugh at you and slap you playfully. You don't talk to me, but watch.

I think you keep quiet because you don't want me to hit you again.

I then begin to dress again. I pick out a pair of black panties you have not seen me wear before, and a sexy bra that must be new, and I put them on, dancing lightly as I do when I dress for an event. I slide on my tights and my short, sexy black velvet dress, my black sex shoes, and as an afterthought my leather ringed collar.

You notice that the dress I am wearing is low enough to show off all my marks except the ones on my chest, and my inner thigh that you only saw in passing as I undressed. Those angered you worst of all. You watch me put my hair up, leaving my neck all the more vulnerable to the black leather of the choker. I make little kissing faces at you as I put on lipstick a shade of red that verges into black. If you weren't so angry you'd make a crack about me looking like a gothic queen.

The look in your eyes is like you're planning my mutilation and slow death, and the torture of the man/men who took what was yours. I smile, dark lips curving and pat you ever so lovingly on your head. I put on dark eye make up, but make no move to put concealer on the love-wounds.

I approach you. I use my hands to make you hard again. You struggle and I ask you to struggle more, because it excites me. You make as if to bash me with your head, I lean back and laugh at you. And that only makes you angrier.

Once you are hard I move my panties to the side and come down upon you quick enough to fully enclose my pussy around you before you could move away. And you writhe beneath me, fighting to make no sound of pleasure. You don't want to give in because you're so angry, you don't know where I've been, who I've been with.

You recall every letter, every e-mail, every messaged conversation, and you never knew I was fucking around on you. You try to tell yourself that you knew, somehow, but in all honesty it came as a complete shock. And the hurt and shock snowball into anger, anger grows unchecked into rage, and that boils inside you.

You thrust upwards angrily, decided to use me as I have used you, as I use you now. I take my pleasure from you, leaning back on you cock, eyes half lidded, and I smirk smugly. You wish you could hit me, you wish you could knock that look off my face. You want me on my knees begging you not to kill me, crying and offering myself up like a sacrificial whore, not riding you and enjoying your pain and betrayal.

Once more, when I sense by your breathing and movement that you are close to climax I remove myself from you. The cold air seems to choke your cock for the second.

The phone rings once more. I do not bother to lower my voice. "Yes. (pause) He's still here. (Longer pause) No, don't worry. He's taken care of. (pause) Soon. All right, bye.” I hang up and smile at you.

There is a knock at the door not a moment later. I dim the lights, grab my bag and leave after kissing you on the lips.

You think I'm joking.

Even if I was fucking another guy and was leaving you, why would I go to all this trouble, you ask yourself. And why would I leave you there for a long time? You are so sure, so certain i would come back. But what if I didn't?

You are in perfect position to watch the clock, and time is very slow, it seems. And even worse, you cannot make your erection wilt. You hate your body, you hate the room, you hate the cuffs, and you hate me. Your mind wanders to ideas of revenge, and nothing seems too terrible for me. Not only for killing a relationship, not only for blatantly fucking around on you, not just for handcuffing you to the bed, but for being so damn hot that your cock can't deflate.

After the first hour you feel like screaming for help. But you decide it's not worth it for someone to have to break down the locked door and see you handcuffed and naked with your cock hard as an iron spike.

After the second hour you begin to doze off and on and your head is littered with sexually violent dreams.

The clock flashes a cold 2:51 in the morning before you hear me outside the door again.

Your sense of relief nearly equals your hate and sexual fervor. Your penis that seemed to flag during sleep resumes its solid attention.

You hear a thump, you can imagine it would be the sound of a body being pressed none too gently against the outside of the door. You hear me laugh, and you can tell that I am not alone, nor only with a friend. It is the laugh of someone aroused. You hate the laugh, but not as much as you hate how well you can hear the moaning. My moaning as something is being done to me by someone outside my room. You can only imagine, and your imagination gives only the grimmest of satisfaction.

You hear the jingle of keys, and the rattle of the door. I step inside, lit by the hallway, and my hand hits the lights, making the room complete darkness. A shape follows me inside. You have the uncanny feeling that you are in a bad situation. You cannot see me, or my lover, but you can sense us in the room. You are uneasy. You hear bed springs as my lover and I settle on my roommate’s bed. You hear, or imagine you can hear the sound of hands petting velvet.

You can hear the sounds of wet kissing, of soft moaning, the shuffle and removal of clothes. And even though it is very dark you can feel my eyes on you,

Suddenly as my moans and kisses do not cease you can feel my hand grip your member.

At this time you are surprised and cannot hold back a sound as I stroke you languidly.

You demand that I turn on the lights. Even you are not sure whether it is to see the man who has taken your place, or to see me naked before you, bathed in my own desire.

I laugh at you and seconds later you are blinded. When your vision clears you crane your head down to the floor where I am, splayed out, naked, the insides of my thighs shining wet, my nipples swollen from being bitten, my hair falling down around my eyes, and I am smiling, not at you, because even if I am facing you, my eyes are on my lover.

And then you see her.

She has the look of a predator. She is tan, where I am pale, even sitting you can tell she is taller than me. Her lips are large and generous, her teeth white, her eyes a sedate brown, her smile satisfied, her hair a dark shade, you cannot discern if it is darkest brown, or black. Where I am naked, she is dressed in a corset that does not cover her bosom and that falls about her waist in someone's mad idea of a ballerina's tutu. She wears boots that are shiny, and a faint film of my juices cling to her face and hand.

"You wanted the lights on." I say sardonically. The girl is silent, but grinning. At you. She still holds your gaze as she leans towards my upper chest and leaves another bite upon me. You see me start and moan, eyes not quite focusing.

You can't decide whether you hate me more because I deceived you over deceiving you, or hate me less because I wasn't getting dicked. And then you take that back because the nameless, silent womanly girl reaches into my third drawer and pulls out a large, knobby vibrator which you can tell is new. It disturbs you slightly that she knows exactly where I keep my sex toys.

Without any ceremony, or any allowance for me to ready myself she deftly and quickly inserts the very thick psuedo-cock into me, making me buck on the bare floor. Her eyes flicker over me, and then back to you, she fucks me by touch as her eyes are level with you. You wish she would say something. Her silence unnerves you.

Expertly she pinches my left nipple with one hand and drives the vibrator into my pussy with a quickening rhythm. She watches you, but you watch me, moving, as I had moved under you so many times. You are reminded that you are very aroused.

You are astonished when the dark haired girl withdraws the sex organ and points to you while giving me a meaningful look. You hold your breath. You figure one of three things could happen. One, I would uncuff your now stinging hands. Two, The nameless chick would use the vibrator on you...You shudder. Or three you'd get knocked out and thrown into a gutter. So you were pretty shocked when I slid my overtly moist pussy over your rigid cock. So surprised in fact that you let out an anguished moan.

And as I raised and lowered myself, and moved on your cock I ate at your neck and shoulders, I kissed you, and you kissed back. You couldn't do anything else. The hot feeling of my flesh rubbing yours, completely bereft of any clothing and sharp teeth scraping at you chest was too much. You even nearly forgot that you were bound.

After such torture and teasing it was liberating to actually release. You made a sound like the ejaculate were being ripped from you, and then you sagged, beneath me, into the bed.

I then kissed the dark haired girl tenderly, as she put on her leather jacket to cover her bare chest, and walked her to the door. You say nothing, only watch me return and slip the keys for the handcuffs out of the sex-toy drawer. I kiss you on your forehead and unshackle you before laying beside you.

You rub your wrists that are a little red and raw, and look at me, so satisfied and quiet. You aren't quite as mad as when you thought I was fucking a man.

You slap me, hard across the face. "Did she even have a name?" You ask. And then we are quiet.

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