Home Invader

I wake from sleep to find that I cannot move. Then I feel a pressure on my mouth; I try to scream, but the pressure only increases. Panicking, I take quick, shallow breaths through my nose and, as I become more fully awake, I realise that I cannot move because someone is sitting astride my thighs. One of their hands is holding my wrists together, above my head, and the other is clamped over my mouth. Instinctively, I try to struggle, to fight them off, but their grip on me is strong. I can move my lower legs slightly, but not enough to do anything useful. I have no idea what time it is, but it is too dark to see anything other than the shadowy figure of a well-built man looming over me. I briefly wonder if this is my master - he has a spare key, after all, and I did admit my rape fantasies to him a few months ago - but it is too dark to see any distinguishing features.

The hand moves off my mouth, but as I open my mouth to scream, I feel fabric being pushed into my mouth, secured with some sort of tape. Then I feel soft rope being wrapped around each wrist, my hands still held firmly in one of his large hands. I struggle again, trying to wriggle my hands free, but his grip is tight. Wriggling my legs only results in getting my foot tangled in the duvet that is still covering my body. He releases his grip on my hands, but only so that he can tie the rope to one of the convenient upright posts near the centre of the headboard. In vain, I tug at the ropes, but the knots hold firm. Before my eyes can adjust to the darkness, I feel a sleeping mask being placed on my eyes and hands grabbing roughly at my head to pull it away from the pillow so that the mask can be secured behind my head. Now I'm almost certain that this cannot be my master. He never blindfolds me, preferring to be able to see my reactions in my eyes. Surely if this was him fulfilling a fantasy, he would want to see this look of terror in my eyes?

From behind my blindfold, I sense a change in the light as the bedside lamp is turned on. Cold air hits my legs as the duvet is pulled off me. The bottom of my nightie is lifted and I whimper behind the makeshift gag as I feel cold metal being pressed against my stomach. Terrified, I remain as still as I can, hoping that my attacker does not intend to hurt me. I am relieved when I feel my nightie pulled upwards and the knife is moved from my stomach to cut the fabric. But then I feel the back of the knife sliding under the remnants of my top, between my breasts, until it rests gently against my neck. I hold my breath, knowing that my shallow breathing increases the movement of my chest, and the knife moves away from me again to cut downwards through the rest of the fabric and then through the straps of my nightie. As I hear the knife being placed on my bedside table, I draw a deep, panicked breath in through my nose. I am sure now that this is not my master. Whenever we play, he is quick to calm me when my vulnerability begins to tip into real fear. And, right now, I am genuinely terrified of what this man intends to do to me.

He is still sitting astride my thighs, and I feel his hands on my breasts, squeezing them firmly, digging his fingers in roughly, then rolling my nipples between his finger and thumb before pinching them hard, making me shriek in pain behind my gag. Then his teeth sink into the soft flesh of my breast until I let out another muffled scream.

I feel his weight shifting and try to take advantage of my slight increase in freedom to fight back with a sharp kick, but he is too quick and grabs my ankles. He holds them tightly under his arm as he wraps more rope around each ankle. Then he holds my ankles in his hands and I feel my legs being pulled upwards. He lifts my body upwards as he uses his knee to roughly shove me towards the middle of the bed. I have no choice but to let him reposition me. My ankles are pulled further until they are vertical and then my legs are spread apart. I feel his shoulders holding them in position and try again to kick him away, but I do not have enough range of motion to do any more than poke a toe against his cheek. This small act of defiance earns me another painful pinch to my nipples. His shoulders continue to hold my legs firmly as I sense him tying the ropes to the corners of the headboard. Then he tightens the rope and my legs are pulled outwards towards the corners of the bed, my feet as close to my head as my (lack of) flexibility will allow. Once more, I wriggle, trying to free myself, but I am unable to do any more than wiggle my bottom. I am naked and exposed, tied to my own bed by an unknown attacker, whom I know is armed with a knife.

His hands run gently from my ankles, down my legs, stroking the soft flesh of my thighs. Then his fingers probe between the lips of my pussy. To my shame, I realise that I am becoming wet with arousal, and my body does not put up any resistance when his finger pushes inside me, joined by a second finger. His fingers pump firmly in and out, the rest of his hand bashing against my lips. I moan behind the gag as his thrusts become even harder, my body being rocked by every push. I feel my pussy becoming bruised by the force of his hand. Then, suddenly, he stops, and I find that I am disappointed. This isn't right - I shouldn't be enjoying being roughly used by a stranger...

Then his hand comes down hard on my arse. I cry out behind the gag, but his hand returns again and again, covering my thighs and arse in hard, sharp spanks. The rhythm of the spanks feels familiar and my mind begins to question again who my attacker might be. Perhaps it is my master after all? If it's him, then it's okay for me to be turned on by this, I reason. But what if it's not? What if I'm turned on by being spanked and used by a stranger? I struggle in my bondage again as the pain builds on my arse, unable to move away from the harsh blows. A tear escapes from my eye and finds a path from beneath the sleeping mask, down my cheek. Ten more painful spanks land as I make muffled whimpering noises. And all I can do is to lie there and accept whatever my attacker gives me.

And then it stops. I feel the mattress shifting as the man gets off the bed. I move my head, trying to sense where he is and what he is doing, but I cannot hear or see anything. Minutes pass, although they feel like hours. What if he has gone, leaving me tied up and helpless like this? A slight noise lets me know that he is still there. What is he doing? Is he just staring at the sight of my helpless, naked body tied to the bed, my chest rising and falling with each shallow, scared breath, trembling with the fear of what he might do to me? Against my will, the thought of him admiring my body, combined with my restrained and exposed position, totally at his mercy, arouses me. After a few more long moments, I feel the mattress sink as he returns to the bed. I feel his thighs against my arse and then his hard cock suddenly sinks deep into my pussy in one swift thrust. With my legs in this position, the tip of his cock feels as if it is bumping into my cervix, almost painfully. He begins to fuck me, hard and fast, brutally using my body for his pleasure, holding my legs to keep me exactly where he wants me. Not that he needs to - my body is reacting instinctively, pushing back against his cock, as much as I can within the limits of my bondage. Shame builds inside me again as I realise how much I am enjoying this, despite knowing that it is wrong.

His cock pulls out of my pussy. I feel something cold being dripped onto my arsehole and then his finger pushes insistently into my arse. Another finger joins it, slippery with lube, stretching me. I try not to think of how good it feels, but his other hand reaches over me to rub my clit, finding it swollen with shameful arousal. As he continues, I try to fight off the oncoming orgasm, but eventually I am unable to and I feel waves of pleasure wash over my body as he continues to violate my arse with his fingers. He takes advantage of my sudden relaxation to replace his fingers with his cock. I feel the head stretching me even further than his fingers did, but there is nothing I can do to stop him and he pushes his cock forwards firmly, pausing every now and then to allow me to adjust to the invasion and gently brushing his fingers over my sensitive clit. I am grateful for his pauses and wonder briefly whether it is a sign of consideration. Or am I just hoping desperately that he isn't a stranger, to alleviate my feeling of shame at my enjoyment of his attack? Maybe it just feels more comfortable for him if he allows me to relax slightly.

Eventually, I feel his thighs rest against my sensitive arse. He begins to fuck my arse, beginning fairly slowly and gently but becoming rougher and faster. The initial pain of my arse being invaded by his cock turns to pleasure as his fingers continue to rub my clit. Another tear runs down my cheek as I realise that I am about to have a second orgasm from this stranger abusing my arse. My muscles spasm around his cock as I reach my climax. And then I hear the familiar groans that my master makes when he orgasms as he cums deep in my arse.

The blindfold is pulled up and I look up into the eyes of my master gazing down at me. He quickly removes the tape from my mouth and pulls out the pair of knickers that he used to gag me, replacing them with his mouth on mine, gently kissing me as his hand strokes my hair affectionately. He unties my legs and rubs them as he returns them to a more natural position. Then he releases my hands before lying down and pulling me towards his chest, wrapping his strong, protective arms around me. As I begin to relax into his body, I whisper, "Thank you, Sir." He holds me as I share my thoughts and feelings about the experience with him and he smiles at my description of my shame, telling me how much he also enjoyed being able to unleash his primal nature, reassured by my body betraying my arousal.

The next morning, I wake up still snuggled in his arms, his broad shoulder more comfortable than any pillow. For the rest of the weekend, I am reminded of my fantasy being fulfilled every time I sit down and become aware of my bruised pussy and every time I see the bruise on my breast. And I find myself wondering what further darkness is waiting to be explored as we realise our fantasies together.