A Night to Remember

She was one month out of high school and seeing as much of the world as she could before going to University. She wanted to visit New York City and Chicago before taking another fateful step toward adulthood. She was independent, and could handle herself, she told her parents. She needed this time to be free before she proceeded with her education, and was locked into the workforce for the next forty years. She stood outside out the hotel-room. The white-paint of the door was chipped and faded, and its brass numbers tarnished. The rain spilled down the pavilion over her, hammering the sheet-metal and rolling down the concrete platform. It speckled the pool at the center of the wrap-around building and the air was heavy with southern humidity. She was far from New York City, far from anywhere her parents, her friends; anyone would ever expect her to be. It was only appropriate. She swiped her keycard and entered the room. Freedom, she thought, hearing the lies she'd told her loved ones. She'd traveled from the crossroads of Europe to be everything but free.

She stepped into the darkness, closing the door behind her, only to whimper and recoil with a sudden clap of thunder from outside. Her hand shot to the wall, looking for the light-switch, but finding nothing. A cone of light spilled from the bathroom at the other end of the room, and she hurried to it, moving anxiously through the void of silent black. She heard nothing but her own dampened footsteps on the carpet and her heart, which she felt quiver frantically in her chest.

She reached the bathroom and shut the door behind her, taking solace in the light. A brass deadbolt was nailed crudely to frame, and she lifted her hand to lock the door, but stopped. She stopped, and lowered her hand back to her side, causing her breath to rattle with anxiety. No, she thought, he wouldn't want me to lock the door.

She placed her bag onto the sink and browsed through her clothes, eventually settling on an older pair of white, cotton panties and a white blouse. They were some of her cheaper, more expendable clothes, but the blouse hugged her breasts tightly and brought out the depth of her light tan.

She ran the shower and waited a few minutes until it became a decent temperature. The plumbing squealed and the water-pressure was weak, but she would make good use of her free-time before he arrived. It was a long trip, and maybe the water would calm her nerves.

The wait was all part of the excitement. She'd revealed her deepest secret to him only months before, and weeks later, the trip was set into motion. She'd warmed her parents up to the idea of paying for a trip to America, and spent many late nights thinking about, adding a fearful thrill that her fantasies had always lacked. She lathered her body with the hotel's complementary bottle of soap, forgetting a wash-cloth, and being forced to run her bare fingers across her slick flesh. She'd thought about this night hundreds of times, and she felt the adrenaline spill into her blood, stronger now than ever. The urge to slip her hand between her legs and massage her velvety clit was almost ingrained in her muscle memory. No, she thought, it belonged to him now.

She dried with a single cotton towel, pouting slight after washing her hair but forgetting to pack any of her appliances, like they'd work in the states, anyway. Her blonde locks were left hanging in a stringy, damp mess, and she didn't know whether she had time to reapply her makeup.

She opened the bathroom door, strangely comfortable by the lack of light now, and started her search for a lamp when she smelled an acrid smell of smoke in the air. She hesitated, heart racing again, and she looked toward the door through the abysmal darkness. The window in the far corner of the room, next to the door, was open, spilling the weak, orange flood-lighting from the pool area into her room. A lone, glowing ember hovered in the darkness, and the similar amber glow from outside was cast over half of his face.

She crossed her arms over her, freezing in place, feeling horrifically exposed in her underwear.

"Hey." She said, the words crawling their way out of her tight throat.

"Hey." He said back. His voice rumbled the room like the thunder outside, and he exhaled smoke with his words. The orange lights against his whispers looked like he was breathing fire.

"When...when did you get here?"

"I've been waiting." He said, snubbing out the cigarette.

So have I, she thought. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here."

He said nothing. His silence sent fear slamming through her veins. He was different. This was not that man she'd talked to for hours on end. He didn't exude anger or annoyance, but he didn't comfort her, either, didn't tell her it was okay, and she knew in that moment, it wouldn't be.

He approached her, eyes sweeping up and down her curvaceous form, as though his gaze pierced through the darkness. Lighting flashed outside, rocking the room with another wave of thunder and lightning the room for a blinding instant. She saw him only briefly, with brown hair flecked with wisps of blood. He was wearing a black, button up shirt. The first few buttons were open at the top and exposed a white-undershirt. When the light escaped the room, was standing before her, the sharp scent of menthol clinging to his breath. Her heart beat so hard that it hurt. She held herself even tighter; her knees were locked and nearly shaking. She felt his hands at the small of her back, finding the exposed midriff between her tank-top and panties. She held her breath, preparing for the pain, but instead, he pulled her against his hard chest and buried his face into her neck.

She loosened her arms from her chest and wormed them around his back, as well, accepting the loving embrace with shock and excitement. His lips were damp against her neck and his skin was blazing hot, mingling with the heat that radiated from her own. His arms were terrifyingly strong, holding her firmly in place with absolute ease, but with gentleness she didn't expect. They stayed like this for well over a minute, and but her heart didn't ease it's manic pace.

He removed his face from her neck, and she felt his breath play against her lips.

"Is this really what you want?"

She hesitated. She'd already gotten what she wanted. This was already a night that would always linger in her mind. But she'd come for a night that she'd never forget, and he'd promised her one.

His face was so close that when she muttered, yes, her lips brushed against his.

He backed away from her and circled around the bed. He found a lamp on the night-stand and illuminated the room with warm light. He sat at the edge of the bed, and nodded to the corner of the room, toward the chair.

"Bring that over here."

She looked from him, to the chair, and then nervously moved to it. She slid it easily across the carpet, bending low to gain leverage, but stopped when she felt his hands on her hips.

"Good." He said, holding her for a moment.

"There's a bag beneath the bed. Get it."

She turned and looked to him, and then looked to the floor. Her gaze swept along the darkness beneath the bed- frame, and his finger appeared into her view, aiming downward sternly between his legs. "Down there."

She dropped to her knees, and then bent over deeply to reach beneath the bed. The bag was nearly on the other side, and she had to squeeze herself between the depressed mattress and the musty carpet to reach it. He shifted his weight, putting pressure on her back, just after she grabbed the bag. Her bottom half was exposed and he took full advantage of her position, running his fingers up her thighs. Hesitated, feeling the lines trace up her legs and her ass, until he reined an open hand onto her left cheek. She gasped with shock and pain, feeling the nerves prickle and shriek. The sudden agony did nothing for her, but he roared, hurry up, and slapped again, causing her to wince, but smile with unfiltered delight.

She wormed her way back to open air, stinging, as she rose to her feet.

"Open it."

She obeyed, unzipping the black-duffel bag, and finding a coil of rope sitting at the top.

"Take that out."

She obeyed, removing the nylon bundle, but hesitated when she saw what it had previously hid. At the bottom of the bag sat a small assortment of menacing, steel tools of various sizes and shapes.

"What is this?"

He stood and put a single hand around her throat. He squeezed tightly, enough to cause her legs to lose their strength with panic, and to cause her breathing to become a whimper.

"Are you here to ask questions?"

She tried to speak, tried to shake her head, but his grip wouldn't allow it. His fiery eyes brightened more, and he squeezed tighter. "Answer me!"

She couldn't. It wasn't fair. She wanted to say, no sir, its fine, do what you want, but she couldn't and he would only hurt her more.

He released her and she gave a slight cough, forcing herself to control her desperate gasps for air.

"Sit down." He said. She abided, still woozy from his embrace. She put her knees together sheepishly, but he didn't like that either.

"Maybe I haven't been clear." He said, kneeling in front of her. He rested his lips again her knees, tickling them as he spoke. "You will give yourself to me 100%." He shimmied the knife edge of his hand between her thighs, coercing her to spread them, and expose herself. "Or I will hurt you."

Her face flushed bright red as she fought her every instinct to slam her legs shut. He took the coil of rope into his hands, and wringed it between his fists.

"Take your shirt off."

She hesitated again, he and brought the rope down across her bare, left right thigh. She whimpered from the pain of the strike, and quickly tugged her shirt over her head, causing her breasts to bunch, and then fall free from the confines of the tight cotton. He bother looking at her as he prepared the rope, cutting it in half, and tying one end to the leg of the seat. She sat, resisting the urge to cover her bare breasts, and instead abided his every silent command, if only to keep his hungry eyes off of her.

She placed both of her hands on the arms of the chair, and he secured the rope around her wrists, and then to the bottom peg. He forced her ankles upward, pinning her knees to her ribs. She waited anxiously for his next move, feeling fear invading her senses as she realized she couldn't move her arms at all. She felt her legs grow tired from their elevated position, and she daringly tried to lower them, but was struck with yet another bolt of panic. She couldn't move them. Her ankles were tied now, too, at her wrists, forcing her legs permanently open.

No, she thought, she didn't want it like this. She'd grown up waiting for this moment, and for several years, she thought this was the man who'd do it for her. But not like this. She wanted the sweet man who'd make her laugh, who'd ease her tears, who'd speak of dreams about holding her for hours on end. She'd fantasized about the loss of control, the violence, but she'd never wanted to lose her virginity like this. She felt him hard against her clit, pressing firmly against her, and she panicked more, ready to cry, to shriek, to take back everything she'd told him. He pulled her panties aside, and instead of the sting, the pressure, the pain she'd been warned about, she felt his tongue run lovingly up her clit.

In those few minutes, her anxiety and trepidation turned to absolute pleasure with mathematic efficiency. Months of fantasies collapsed around her, slamming her nervous system with euphoria. She'd survived high school knowing that no teenage boy could ever touch her like she could touch herself, or ever understand her like still couldn't quite. She'd drifted off into elaborate fantasies for all of her teenage life, learned to find her favorite rhythm with a pianists' dexterity, but he was touching her like she never could. With her legs spread wide, he sucked on her clit, massaging it with his tongue like a passionate kiss, and moved lower occasionally to plunge his tongue inside her.

He did this for what seemed like forever, kissing and sucking until he'd have to lift his head for desperate breaths of air, spilling warmth over her stomach. Her face was flushed, and she moaned in desperation when he stopped just of her orgasm for the second time. He looked up to her and she met his gaze with glossy eyes, a half-smile on her lips. He reached up her chest and brought his hand across her face, jerking her head and flinging her hair across her vision. She couldn't make herself frown from the pain, and all she could do was continue with an intoxicated smile.

"Are you in a hurry?"

"No sir." She said breathlessly.

He stood, leaving her with her legs reared high, trapping the blood in the upper half of her body and causing her feet to tingle with numbness. He searched through his bag and found a small device, a black remote with a silver egg attached via a black wire. He tucked to ball into her panties, taking care to line it with her clit, and letting the tight fabric hold it in place. He spun the dial on the remote, and the egg began to hum gently, sending vibrations shooting through her pelvis.

He looked to her while maneuvering his hands within the bag, and she heard the tearing of what sounded like fabric.

"One more time." He said. "There's no coming back from this..."

He cranked up the intensity of the vibrations, and she tossed her backward, leaving her mouth agape. She managed to silently nod her head, and just as she lowered her eyes again, he slammed his palm onto her mouth, jarring her head and securing a silver piece of duct-tape across her lips.

She looked to her bindings again, testing their strength, and gave a panicked whimper when she realized that she was entirely trapped, and forever silenced, as even her moans were trapped in the dense weave of the tape.

He returned to the bag and retrieved a pair of slim, stainless steel tongs and she immediately blushed. She'd seem similar toys in various videos online, but these were different, ringing loudly in specific memories of trips to the mall with her girlfriends. She'd held the hand of a former best-friend while the instrument clenched the flesh just above her belly button.

He seized her right nipple with the pincer of the tong, twisting it slightly to see her squirm with pleasure and fear, and then cranked the vibrator up even further, causing her body to shiver. With his now free right hand, he punched through the tender, pink skin with the barb of a steel ring. She flinched, pulling away fiercely and shrieking beneath the tape. Her eyes watered, but the pain equated immediately to a stunning pleasure that slammed through her veins, an opioid euphoria that mingled with the sharp pain to create a confused cocktail of agony and ecstasy.

He moved to the next nipple and punched the ring through it with equal ease and efficiency. She tossed her head backward, hammering it into the faux-leather cushioning, gnashing her teeth beneath the tape.

Rubies of blood drifted down her breasts like a corrupted virgin-Mary and he wiped them away using a tissue from the night stand. He stood and pressed his lips against her forehead, which was damp with cold sweat from the pleasure and the pain.

"You did well." He said.

She wanted to curse him, damn him for this. She felt a thousand calibers of shame tearing through her. Why did she agree to this, what would her parents think...what else did he have planned...

He loosed the binds around the pegs of the chair and freed her legs. She lowered them immediately, and the blood rushed from her abdomen back to her prickling nerves. She was overcome with dizziness, so when he barked for her to fall to her knees, she did it without hesitation. He wrenched her arms behind her back and re-lashed the ropes together. Her forehead rested against the floor, and she couldn't control the tears that the searing pain of her new rings caused.

He pulled her to her feet and flung her onto the bed, causing her to bounce slightly. She tried to squirm onto her side, but her found her too quickly, and forced her face down again, his crotch hard against her backside. The familiar fear overcame her again.

He tugged her panties down, stopping at her knees, just enough to hinder her movement. He leaned over her, putting his weight onto her back, and spoke warm words against her neck.

"Did you clean well for me?"

She nodded, mouthing yes against the tape. I brought his hand down against her hip in a slap, and she nodded more fiercely.

He said nothing else, but parted her thighs and kissed her, running his tongue between her clit and her ass. She squirmed with a surreal delight, her nerves electrified by the unfamiliar but fantastic sensation, and her face reddened with confusion. His aggression, his violence, had poisoned her blood with adrenaline and fear, but the contrast with his affection, his tender tongue tasting her flesh, caused her to tremble with delight. He pushed his tongue deep inside, his hands hard against her hips, pulling her closer when she fled with oversensitivity.

She was obeying, and he was rewarding her.

He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, but continued to pleasure her by caressing her with his thumb. He busied himself behind her, until she heard the vibrator begin again, and felt a sudden pinch against her ass.

She reared backward, bucking slightly but lacking the leverage to escape. He shushed her, and the pressure increased, filling her and shaking her core with intense vibrations. This wasn't the silver egg of before. This was bigger. The intense pulsations of the device allowed it to slide inside with ease, but she blushed again with horror and pleasure. With every inch of the device inside her, he continued to massage her clit, causing yet another whirlwind of shame and elation. The sound of the device was muffled by her body, but she felt its mechanical ticking run up her spin and into her teeth. He spoke, but his words were dampened by the rattling of her skull.

"You asked for this." He reminded her.

And then he was inside her, filling her completely and pinching her lower half between the dildo in her ass and the hot dick that was deflowering her. In those few seconds, eighteen years of celibacy were over, nearly two decades of warnings and stigmas washed over her, and a lifetime of was instantly nailed to her soul. Despite all of the foreboding talk of searing pain, the loss of her virginity was everything but painful.

She heard the tang of his belt-buckle loosen, and then the sound of the leather whipping from the loops of his jeans. Before she could react, it was lassoed around her neck and ripped tight, cutting off her air and forcing to arch her back. He released the tension of her leash every thrust so she could fall slightly forward, allowing a split second for air, just for him to reapply pressure and slide her back into his pelvis. The dildo hammered into his abs, filling her and moving with each thrust, causing both members inside her to move in tandem. He tightened the belt, coiling it around his fist, and pulled it tight, taking away her air, and keeping it away. Her face reddened with the imprisoned blood, and her moans, screams, and freedom were locked within her body, until the world darkened around her.

Sure, this is what she wanted, and just like all her life, it was killing her.

The light came slowly through the slits of her eyes, entering her vision as a murky puddle. She felt his arms around her, one beneath her and cupping her breast, and the other slapping her cheek to wake her. His chest was against her back, and he was slick inside her, taking her from behind. He ran his nail to the edge of the tape over her mouth, and she prepared for him to rip the tape, taking the flesh from her lips with it. Instead, he eased it from her mouth, peeling it away and leaving the tacky, chemical residue. He held her jaw, but instead of forcing her weary gaze toward him, he coerced it gently, and then took her lips into his own.