Demons of the Mind

Demons of the Mind

Five hundred dollars wasn't a small sum to me and I felt he should be doing this for free. What man wouldn't want no-strings sex? A night free of any repercussions? But I suppose I wasn't paying him for sex. I was paying him to cross boundaries and to stay quiet after.

Could I trust him? Well, therein lay the problem. I probably couldn't. But if he had been someone I trusted, then the whole purpose of the evening would be wasted.

I handed the money over trying to disguise the shake in my hands.

He pushed the cash into his pocket without looking at it.

"Aren't you going to check it?"

He gave a sickly smile that unnerved and excited me all at once.

"If you've cheated me... it'll be a mistake, don't you think?"

I nodded softly. If I had short-changed him and he became angry, then I would be in trouble. More trouble than I'd volunteered myself for. A shaved head, gym-toned muscles, and a body covered in tattoos marked him out as someone I really shouldn't cross. He was everything my mother had told me to stay clear of.

He looked me over with hungry eyes one more time. From that point, he became what I wanted. Rough and uncaring.

"Now get in the truck bitch and let's get this done."

So, how had a meek, sweet-looking girl gotten herself into this position? Well, I was twenty-six with a history of conventional sex partners. Two long-term lovers who people had assumed I'd marry, or at least hook up with permanently. And four one-night stands with equally nice boys who cared about being gentle with me.

To an onlooking world, I was the girl next door. The sweet thing who came from a good home wore dresses and never swore. I even had a sweet name. Abigail. Abby.

As a child, I'd made lemonade and acted the perfect princess. All grown up, I worked in a bookshop and ran a book club for middle-aged ladies. I was sweetness and light. I even attended church most Sundays.

I had another man in my life after the past ones had fallen by the wayside after failing to live up to the high standards I expected. A gentle soul who worshipped the ground I walked on. It was pleasant and oh-so vanilla. Traditional dating, monogamous, no kinks, and a mutual exchange of pleasure in the bedroom. Just like thousands of other lucky couples across the country.

To be blunt, I adored fucking him. I venerated sucking his cock. I delighted at his touch of my privates and the way he could lift me to that blissful moment. And I loved him as a person. To employ an overused phrase, was my soulmate.

However, what the world saw was not everything there was to me. I had a demon that lurked in the back of my mind. Even after the love of my life had made me cum and I lay there smiling and joyful, I still had a deep dark want lurking in the back of my mind that I couldn't escape

I wanted to be one of those girls I saw in the more extreme porn I sought out in private. Yes, I watched porn with my boyfriend. But it was always tame stuff. Couples, college teens, and the occasional lesbian videos. The kind of thing everyone watched. It was when I was alone I indulged the devil in me. It was then I watched much darker things. Bondage, gang bangs, girls tied to frames and fucked to exhaustion by big bulls of men.

This was a hunger I felt shame over in more lucid moments. A secret I would never share with anyone. It was a curiosity that'd begun when I was younger and single. A search for ever more arousing clips as I sought something to help me cum when masturbating.

I know most girls will say they have no problem alone and that the difficulties come with a partner. For me, it was the opposite. With a boyfriend, cuming was easy. The emotional and physical connection lifted me to my pinnacle without any difficulty. Alone I could pump my pussy for hours as I flicked through video after video looking for that one magical thing that would tip me into orgasm. I wanted to feel myself cum so badly. To scream my pleasure. But always, no matter how much I reached that peak I felt as though something was missing. That I hadn't quite attained true sexual release. Always it needed to be a little more extreme and humiliating to help me achieve relief.

None of it represented me. I was the prim and proper girl from the nice side of town every boy was happy to introduce to their mom. And I was at a crossroads in my life. On the cusp of becoming what every girl aimed to be. And in a way, that frightened me. The sudden thought that my fantasies would remain forever that and I'd never truly know what it was like to experience them. I'd never know that one aspect that was missing from my real life. Fear.

My future would be that of a loving wife, mother to a couple of children, and making dinner for the family. My husband would be an ordinary man who dressed well, worked hard, and cleaned the yard at weekends. Most certainly not the muscular, big dicked, ruffian of my fantasies who didn't care about asking if I was pleased, or if he could put a finger in my arse. Nor did I want him to be. But a tiny part of me, that demon who wanted me to blaspheme Christ and reject decency, demanded I experience the fear of a bad man just once.

And that's where I stood. I was faced with one last chance to know the truth of my evil or forever bottle it away as a nagging regret. Either I experienced what I dreamed about as I masturbated or I buried the idea forever and accepted I'd never know what it was like to be taken to the extreme.

With time running out, I'd decided to embrace it, to put myself at risk to experience the adrenaline rush I hankered after. Just the once. Then I'd return to normality and live a good life.

Thus I'd gathered together some money and gone out to the roughest place I knew. A bar at the edge of the next town that attracted the roughest of the rough.

I had eyes on me as soon as I walked through the door. I was so out of place. I couldn't look anything other than what I was. A sweet girl. Fairly petite with slender legs, nice tits, and a youthful face framed by immaculate thick dark hair. Everyone here was a biker or truck driver. Big muscular men covered in tattoos who were probably rarely sober or constantly high on some substance I'd rather not know about.

Even the few girls that were around looked like they would glass me in an instant. They dressed in tee shirts and denim. I was in a dress. Where they wore boots, I had small heels to accentuate the muscles in my calves and hold my posture.

I was terrified and horny all at once.

Christ, they were a rough bunch. Hardened drinkers. The smell of alcohol was embedded in the wood. Years of spilled beers soaked into the floorboards and table tops.

The smoking bans hadn't reached here. Cigarettes sent a waft of smoke that hung like a microclimate along the ceiling. There was even a hint of herbal. The telltale smell of cannabis smoked openly by people who cared nothing for the law.

This was redneck country. Crass and unsophisticated laborers who worked hard and played harder. The kind of place my parents had always told me to stay away from. This was a bar that would probably end the night in a brawl more often than not. No one like me would come here and expect to leave unmolested.

And that was the point. I wanted to be molested. Somewhere in here would be what I was looking for. That elusive image I had in my head of a man who would fuck me without asking and never care to know my name.

I saw him almost straight away. A big guy who worked out. Shaved bald, with tattoos everywhere. He had muscles I didn't know a man could possess. And such a tight butt. The kind of butt that could go up and down on a girl for hours. I could only imagine how big his cock would be.

I think I went a little bit weak when I saw his eyes flick over me. I smiled automatically before realizing how pathetic I looked.

Then I saw the girl. She let her hand drift over his chest as she walked past him with her eyes firmly fixed on me. It was a familiarity and a statement of ownership that left me disappointed. He was hers. That much was evident.

"Pretty." She whispered passionately as she passed me. Her fingers brushed against mine.

I was confused by that. His girlfriend but equally as interested in me. She wasn't what I wanted. I didn't have latent lesbian tendencies. No girl could abuse me how I needed. But she did hold my attention for a moment.

The girl was pretty in a rough sort of way. Like him, she was all tattoos. Long dark hair and equally dark eyes contrasted with bright lip gloss that made her lips look even bigger. She was slender. Long legs and big tits that moved with a life of their own under her tight top. I could see nipple piercings pushing through the thin material. How old? Difficult to say, but younger than him. Probably younger than me.

I watched her as she walked across to the bar. Self-assured and at ease with her life. She picked up a bottle and turned to lean against the bar with a foot up on the bar rail.

"You lost?"

I was brought back to the man at the sound of his voice. He was standing in front of me holding a pool cue out to me. My stomach turned over with a nervous fear.

"No. I'm in the right place for what I want."

I was quaking.

"And what might that be?"

I took the cue.

"Games." I said with a sultry grin.

I impressed myself at being able to keep the play-act up when my head was screaming at me to run and forget this nonsense before I got hurt.

"You can break."

I wasn't good at Pool. I could pocket a ball but I had zero idea about setting the next one up or strategy to block my opponent's shots. But that wasn't what this was about.

I aimed to have him look at me. To see my short dress ride up around my butt. To look at my taut legs and my tits where they almost fell from my top as I leaned forward. I was playing his game only to entice him into mine. I was advertising myself. Answering mental urges to let him look at my flesh. Hoping he would find he wanted it.

"What do I get if I win?"

"Me." I said making my intentions clear even if my voice was shaking.

"That's if ..."

I glanced at the girl again. She was still leaning against the bar with her beer watching us with evident amusement.

"Don't worry about her." He said.

"Worry about if you lose."

To be honest, there was no 'if' about it. He was clearing the table in double quick time. All that was left for me to do was pose at every opportunity so his attention didn't wander. And to decide how much of a threat the watching girl was. At the moment she seemed entertained by me, like I was some aberration that would evaporate before causing any harm in her world. Would she feel the same when her man's hands were on me?

I quivered at the thought of those big palms grasping and squeezing my tits. Of his mouth sucking on my nipples. He was exactly what I wanted. Rough and strong. A bad boy who I couldn't trust not to hurt me. He was the kind who would take me outside, spin me around and fuck me against the wall as I protested. He'd fuck me in the dirt and leave me there when he was done.

Exactly what I wanted.

The rattle of the eight ball spiraling into the pocket brought my attention back to the here and now.

"Well. Seems I won." He said looking me up and down.

"You did."

I shuddered from head to toe as my fantasy grew ever closer to becoming a reality.

I glanced around. Most people were ignoring us. Just the girl watching intently. I decided what he chose to do was in his hands. Not hers. Fuck, I was shaking. Was I in too deep to back out?

I spoke before I could let the voice of sanity take hold.

"You want to take me somewhere?"

He laughed.

"Look at you. You're a college girl. Why would I waste my time with you?"

I felt deflated but didn't give up.

"I'm not at college."

"Not now maybe. But that's what you are. A daddy's girl who's never come home late or sat in a stranger's car."

He was right. I was that goody two shoes. That was my life outside of those moments trawling the internet for videos of young girls tied and fucked to the extreme.

"I'll pay you." I said nervously.

He downed his beer and leaned back, putting a foot up on an adjacent stool. All I could see was his crotch. Grubby denim that hid what I imagined was a massive cock.

"You for real?"

My lip quivered as I found the strength to voice my thoughts.

"Five hundred dollars if you take me somewhere and fuck my brains out like a daddy's girl has never experienced."

My voice shuddered. It was hard to grasp that those words had come out of my sweet little mouth.

I still seemed merely an amusement to him. He laughed again.

"What is it you want? To get railed by someone on the wrong side of town? To have your pussy stretched by someone who can hurt you?"

My whole body shook. He'd described my need perfectly.

"Yes."

The strength in my voice had deserted me and it became a whisper. I was weakening. Losing my nerve.

He studied me carefully.

"I bet you've only fucked sweet boys?"

I nodded.

"And now you want to know what it's like with a real man?"

I glanced at his hands. Big, strong hands that sported skeleton tattoos down to the fingertips. Above them, powerful arms with bulging biceps from working out. And more dark tattoos.

"Yes."

My knees shook as I wished I could sit down. I could feel the tightness of my muscles and the dampness of want invading my panties. It took all my willpower not to stand with my thighs rubbing together.

"And what if I'm some kind of nut that decides to ... hurt you."

Crazy I know, but I felt excited that he might. My breathing quickened and I visibly shook with sexual excitement.

"I want you to."

My voice was little more than a whisper.

"I want to feel frightened while you do it."

He hardly reacted to that. Instead glancing me over yet again. He made no secret of staring at my legs and tits and I felt myself going red. My stomach churned and my knees visibly wobbled.

"You got five hundred dollars on you?"

I glanced around suddenly aware that waving money around in a place like this was more likely to get me stabbed than fucked.

"Take me somewhere and I'll show you."

He finished his beer.

"Money first." He held his hand out.

I pulled the wad of cash from my bag, standing so that my body restricted anyone's view. I was terrified I'd get mugged and left abandoned. He took it and pushed it into his pocket.

And with that, I left the bar with a man who looked like he'd rape me and leave me in a ditch.

"Where are we going?"

"You don't get to ask questions. Not anymore."

I tingled. This was it. I was being taken somewhere by a stranger to be fucked forcibly. He gripped my wrist and I found myself almost having to run to keep up with him as he took me to his truck. I wondered what would happen if I changed my mind.

"Now get in the truck bitch and let's get this done."

I wasn't given a choice as he shoved me into the old pickup and slammed the door. Outside was dark and deserted. Only the lights from the bar gave any sense of other people around. And they weren't people I thought might help me if I screamed. More likely I'd end up the victim of a gang rape if I objected now. Oh fuck. I shuddered with a rising terror that I might be making a serious mistake. But one other thing was evident. My panties and tops of my thighs were soaked from an anticipation I couldn't deny. I fought an overwhelming desire to touch myself, to ease the ticklish itch. My clothes felt tight all of a sudden and I wanted to tear them away and be naked.

"Where are taking me?" I asked again as the truck rumbled into life and a big clunky engine carried me away into the darkness.

"Never you mind. Just you get yourself ready to suck my cock like your life depends on it."

I stayed quiet for the short drive to the other side of town. It was little more than a lock-up on a deserted industrial estate.

Anyone would tell me I was crazy. That was a certainty. But this was a once-only opportunity to experience something that plagued my dreams and hid in the dark corners of my mind. Tomorrow my life would change forever and I'd never again be able to make my morbid fantasies a reality. I could feel the fear I'd craved, the clammy terror of watching a horror movie. That held breath, seconds before the sexy blonde met her horrible end. That was how I felt, only more so. And I wasn't so sure I wanted it anymore.

My body did, I was hot. My groin was moist and filled with pressure that only cuming could release. It cried out my need to be fucked. My head was telling me otherwise. The sensible me saw the danger. A risk of getting hurt. Of being more of a victim than I bargained for.

I'd been so certain that I wanted to be raped. To feel fear that I might die at the hands of an aggressive man. Did I want to die? Of course not. But I wanted to be on that edge where I didn't know if I would while feeling the heightened sexual arousal that came with it. And so I'd delivered myself into the hands of a stranger who looked as though he could be a psychotic killer.

Everything I'd dreamed about was becoming a reality. But real fear wasn't the fun I'd thought it'd be. I looked around as he pulled up and with a flick of a switch, plunged us into darkness. This was going to happen no matter what now. I'd put myself in this position. There wasn't a way out. No safe word. Oh fuck.

He pulled me from the car and shoved me forward to the door with a roughness I hadn't expected. A hand stayed on my arm as he unlocked it. A powerful grip I had no chance of escaping from. A reminder that I wasn't turning around to leave if I changed my mind. I glanced around for a safety that didn't exist.

"Inside."

It was a workshop for old cars in its daytime guise. At night it was a lifeless shed of old tools and grease where the smell of oil and welded metal hung in the air. An old Mustang missing its wheels and hood sat raised on stands. Its body was scared from fifty years of wear and its heart, its engine, sat on a bench nearby in pieces.

It reminded me of a victim rather than something undergoing restoration. In a few hours, I would be that car. A wreak teetering on the edge of a final demise. I jumped at the clang of the door slamming shut behind me. I was committed. The closing door was symbolic of my vanishing options. I was going through with this whether I wanted to or not. My choices had retreated like a vanquished army.

"Come on. I haven't got time for sightseeing."

I was pulled sharply, toward the rear and a mezzanine with wooden steps. I tripped up as he pushed me towards my fate.

My breathing was becoming ragged and I could feel my heart pounding. My whole body shook.

At the top was a single room where I assumed this man lived. I focused on a heavy wrought iron bedstead. I imagined it was well used. Most likely that dark-haired girl at the bar frequented his sheets regularly. The thought just made me hornier.

I didn't see anything else. I was focused only on the bed. My head filled with the realization that I was here alone and this man would do to me whatever the hell he wanted.

"Strip."

One single, brutally delivered word.

"What... what?"

Oh my god. I hadn't appreciated how brutal and unfeeling this would be. I'd been naive.

"Come on. Get naked now or I'll rip that pretty dress from you."

His eyes burned into me. He seemed even bigger. An animal that would tear my clothes from me if I refused. I did as he said through fear.

It was harder than I thought to just take my clothes off in front of a stranger. All the while I had to constantly remind myself that this was what I'd wanted. That I'd paid him five hundred dollars to do this to me. An absolute madness I realised now. The devil that spoke into my ear had gone, deserted me now that it'd delivered me into evil. I slipped the dress away, then froze.