My Stranger

I was disoriented, and not just because I couldn't see what was happening. It was his rapid swing from detached forcefulness to almost tender ministrations and back again. In one second he was holding me down and blindfolding me, and in the next breath he was caressing my body, helping me keep my balance as he removed my footwear. As if he wanted me to feel safe, wanted me to trust him.

I flattened myself on the bed, trying to control my breathing. There was more rustling of sheets, the shifting of the mattress, and the creaking of the wood bed frame. My eyes were darting around beneath the blindfold, trying to understand what was going to happen next. He grabbed my wrist and raised it over my head, winding fabric around it. He repeated the same with the other wrist until both arms were bound above my head. I tugged instinctively and heard the bed frame squeak, felt it move slightly. Was it the sheets? Tied to the corner posts of the bed frame? Or had he brought some kind of arsenal ahead of time, had he already prepared for this liaison before he saw me at the pub?

The thought filled me with a sickening dread and at the same time a rush of heat, centering between my legs. My breathing, already a struggle, became even more labored as I could get only a small amount of air to work through my lungs. Panic and desire made me gasp and I was close to hyperventilating. I pulled at my restraints frantically, making whining sounds of protest.

His naked body covered mine, one hand on the curve of my waist, the other stroking my brow. His lips brushed against my cheek. I stilled immediately, somehow comforted despite the dangerous, vulnerable situation I was in.

"I won't hurt you, Anna," he said in a tight voice as if he were trying to control his emotions. "If you want me to stop, at any time, just say your name," he added.

Beneath the fabric my eyes were wide but I tried to nod. He ran his finger down my cheek until it reached my mouth.

"Just say 'Anna' and I'll know to stop," he repeated hoarsely. "Now tell me you understand."

I cleared my throat and moistened my lips, my tongue inadvertently flicking against the finger resting on my mouth. I heard his gasp and was calmed by it. He was driving me crazy, had been driving me crazy for weeks, driving me to distraction over my reaction to him. Maybe I was doing the same to him.

"I understand," I said quietly.

He growled again, his teeth capturing my earlobe in a fierce bite before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"Good girl," he whispered.

My back arched off the bed thanks to either the words or his voice, maybe both. God. How does he do it?

He didn't give me time to ponder it because his teeth were on my neck, nipping lightly, teasingly. His hands gripped my waist, pushing me into the mattress. His fingers found my breast, rolling the nipple gently before flicking sharply and making me hiss. His mouth was on my other breast, his tongue languidly circling the nipple before biting down so hard that my back flew off the bed. Fire sliced through my arms as my restraints pulled me in the opposite direction. I cried out, the pain cresting before becoming a wave of pleasure pounding on the shore. Through it all he didn't stop, moving from one breast to another, his teeth punishing my nipples.

Suddenly he slowed, gently suckling as if in apology. I felt his ragged breathing against my chest, the rumble vibrating against me when he groaned. His breath tickled my lips and I knew his mouth was directly above mine. I raised my chin, expecting a kiss. Instead he swiped his tongue across my lip, his hand skimming my body until he reached the spot between my thighs, cupping his hand around my aching wetness. I rocked against his hand. The touch was too light. I needed more. Damn him, but I needed more. I whimpered, trying to urge his hand with my hips. His hand was immobile. I rolled my eyes, sighing in frustration. My head fell back in defeat and he actually chuckled.

I have no idea how he moved so quickly, or so quietly. Before I could take a breath his hands gripped my thighs, spreading them wide and hooking my knees over his shoulders. I felt his warm breath between my legs and groaned. I felt rather than heard his satisfied laugh. Then his fingers were touching me, from light strokes to fierce jabs deep inside me. His thumb was circling my clit, then flicking it, then ignoring it to plunge several fingers, curling them up to reach my G-spot. Steadily, rhythmically, he alternated his frenetic urgency with languid caresses but each touch showed his determination, his desire.

The pressure began deep in my belly. Like a whirlpool, it gained speed as it circled around and around, spiraling toward the pull of his fingers that were as strong as the earth's gravity. I was helpless against that gravitational pull, the waves of the whirlpool tickling and licking at me, teasing me, enveloping me. A rushing sound filled my ears and I was sucked in, drowning in the pleasure before exploding to the surface. I shrieked and growled, my legs shaking on his back, my arms straining against the ties holding me.

He didn't stop. Nor did he ease up or intensify his onslaught. If anything he maintained the same steady control, urging me toward another climax with precision. I felt his tongue on my clit, the stubble of his chin against my sensitive lips, the fingers of one hand digging into my thigh, the other curling up inside me. He began biting me, using his teeth against the swollen nub. Then he was latching onto my inner thigh, clamping down before returning to my clit. His hands kneaded my ass, his fingernails clawed into my skin, and he growled as if he couldn't get enough of me. I was bucking against him, crying out as I rode each wave, climbing one peak after another with no pauses in between.

He drew back, shoving my legs flat on the bed. His hands trailed up my body, pinching and squeezing. He took a nipple in each hand and twisted them. I tried to jerk my body away and was punished with a slap to one breast, then the other. I cried out in shock, my heaving chest and flushed body belying any outrage. Gripping me by the ankles, he raised my legs until I was almost bent in half, and then he was there, poised at my entrance. I felt him pause, felt him struggle to control himself even as he throbbed against me, and somehow knew he was giving me a chance to stop him. I didn't.

With a growl, he bottomed out inside me in one shove and my chest arched in relief. A relief that was temporary as he began thrusting into me, one arm keeping my legs pinned to his chest, the other grasping my breast so hard my skin began to burn. I let out a gasping sob and at the same time my hips began meeting his thrusts, needing to get closer, wanting more. I should have felt degraded, used; instead I never felt more turned on, more fulfilled, more alive. Seconds turned into minutes, which began to feel like hours as our bodies slapped together, my ass and thighs beginning to smart from the assault.

"Oh - God," I panted. "Please - please." I didn't know if I was pleading with him to stop or continue.

"Are you going to come?" he grunted, his hips flying into mine.

"Yes - yes," I gasped.

My legs dropped to the bed as he withdrew. I felt him step off the bed and clenched my hands into fists, groaning in protest.

"Too bad," he muttered.

I whimpered, writhing on the bed, aching for release. He gripped my ribcage, leaning his weight on me until I was struggling to breathe.

"Not until I say," he said roughly. "You come when I give you permission to come."

I made a whining, frustrated sound, instantly annoyed even as I responded to his words, to his command. He scooted me up the bed and flipped me over to my stomach, my bound arms crossing painfully over my head. Jerking me to my knees, he dug his fingers into my ass, rolling the flesh between his fingers with an approving growl. He shoved his fingers inside me, swirling, poking, jabbing. His knuckles slammed against my clit and I arched my back with a scream.

A sharp smack on one butt cheek made me flinch and cry out, the impact spreading over my body like a raging fire. He fucked me with his fingers, sporadically matching a thrust with a strong slap on my behind. I never knew when the hit was coming but each time was rewarded with the shocking pain immediately followed by intense, tickling heat, shooting through my body before zipping back to my pussy.

The emptiness I felt when he pulled his fingers out, when his hands left my ass, was disturbing. More than a physical void, the absence of his touch left me sad and desperate. When he was inside me, touching me, even causing me pain, I was alive. Wanted. Desirable. Without him using me the way I needed him to, I was just... nothing. Just a shell. Thankfully he soon replaced his fingers with his cock, sliding his length against my slit, pulsing against my opening in a controlled, teasing motion. He held my outer lips open with his fingers, his crown poking at my clit just enough to keep me quivering with anticipation.

Finally he entered me, nudging the tip inside and just resting there, giving me just an inch of him. He held my ass, making it impossible for me to push back. I began weeping, pressing my face into the bed.

"Please," I whispered. "Please - please," I kept repeating.

He rolled his hips, circling his cock inside me, edging into me slowly with each rotation. My tears were swallowed by the blindfold, my entire body strung tight as my inner muscles clutched at him, trying to draw him in deeper. When I felt his body against mine and knew he was in me to the hilt, I let out a long, shuddering sigh. Still holding me in place, he plunged into me, withdrawing to the tip each time.

He began spanking me, timing each smack with a powerful thrust but again in a random pattern so I never knew when to expect it. I could feel the imprint of his palm on my skin with each slap. Given his strength I suspected he was holding back, and I didn't know whether to hope or fear for more, for him to really let loose. His hands were everywhere, either spanking me or pinching my nipples or digging into my waist.

I was unable to move against him, my hands unable to grab onto anything. All I could do was take it, take him. And I loved it. I arched my back, trying to meet his thrusts, a low growl sounding from the back of my throat. The tight coil in my belly was pulsating inside me, dangerously close to exploding. I had no idea what he'd do if I came without permission, but I was getting perilously close to the point of no return. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted blood, trying to prevent the inevitable.

"Please," I whispered in a gasp.

My head jerked back when he pulled on the end of the blindfold, the jarring movement straining my neck. He began pumping into me faster, his crotch slamming against my ass. He used his free hand to spank me in rapid succession, each time causing my body to flinch and buck forward before shoving back to him for more. I was raised up and shoved further up the bed so the restraints would allow for me to be upright on my knees and he rested my back against his chest. He was still pulling on the blindfold, my head tilted back painfully, my arms crossed and extended in front of me.

"Ride me," he said, his voice low and controlled. "Fuck me, Anna."

He pressed his fingers into my hips, guiding my movements. I used the leverage of my bound arms to thrust back against him, wondering why he was giving me control. This was answered when his hands came to my breasts, pinching and twisting and rolling the nipples. I shrieked and cried out.

"Almost," he mumbled, biting my neck. "Almost."

One hand skimmed over my stomach and abdomen until his finger found my swollen clit, flicking and swirling and pressing hard onto it before flicking it again. I pounded my hips back in response, my body beginning to tremble. His other hand slid up to my neck, his long fingers encompassing my throat. The pressure was slight at first, then gradually tightened. Momentary panic washed over me before I realized I could still breathe. He was restricting the air, but not totally cutting it off. I increased my pace and his grip tightened.

"Now," he growled.

Two fingers pinched my clit, his hand circled my throat, his teeth closed over the skin on my neck, and I shattered into a million pieces. Screaming and groaning and crying, my body shaking so hard he would have slipped out had he not had such an iron grip on me. I was on fire, the flames swallowing me whole. Blood pumped in my ears, making me dizzy, but still I shoved back toward him, searching for completion. Our bodies met with a loud slapping sound and he cried out into my flesh. I wailed in triumphant satisfaction as I tumbled over the edge with him.

-

The soft click of a door brought me back to awareness. I opened my eyes but everything was still dark. I realized I was still wearing the blindfold and I let my fingers linger on it, unsure if I wanted to remove it. I heard the sound of water and a toilet flush and knew I was alone, at least for now. I tugged the blindfold off and looked at it dumbly. A silk tie draped over my hands, the smooth grey fabric a jarring reminder. Forcing myself to look away, I glanced around the room. The bedside clock told me that we - or at least I - must have fallen asleep; it was now the middle of the night. Propping myself up, I saw the sheets in total disarray, my clothes in a pile on the floor.

I was exhausted and my entire body ached. I wanted nothing more than to burrow under the covers and sleep for days. Another sound from the bathroom, though, sent me into an unexpected panic and I leapt from the bed, hastily dressing and grabbing my shoes. I was out the door in half a minute, leaning up against it with my shoes clutched to my chest. Running barefoot down the hall, grateful that the elevator appeared instantly, I put my shoes on and tried to smooth my hair. At some point I remembered to check my pocket for my phone and keys, relieved to find them still secure and in my possession.

Continuing to walk until I was a few blocks from the hotel, I finally let myself stop on a park bench, covering my face with my hands. What now? What the fuck do I do now?

There was nothing for it. I knew what I should do. And no matter how much sadness and regret and despair I felt, there was no one to blame but myself. My stranger may have set this train in motion, but I didn't need to jump aboard. I could have stopped it anytime. Could I? It felt like the whole thing was inevitable. I shook my head, both confused and frustrated. Regardless, there was no going back.

-

I wandered around for hours, until the faint light of early morning appeared. I finally thought to check my phone and saw a message from Sabrina telling me she had crashed at Allie's after I disappeared from the bar. Relieved that she was unaware of anything amiss, I dragged myself home where I took a long, hot shower, keeping my eyes shut as I washed my body. As if that could erase the memory. I could still feel the sting on my bottom from where he'd spanked me, the bite mark on my neck that would surely leave a bruise, the imprint of his fingers on my neck. Not to mention the ache between my legs where I had been thoroughly satisfied but still felt a yearning for more. My jaw clenched at the thought and I hurried through the rest of my shower. I needed to get clothes on. Needed to cover up. As if that could mask what I had done.

Not bothering to dry my hair or put on makeup, I hoisted a small suitcase from the closet and began throwing clothes into it without paying attention to what I was packing. I couldn't see the items passing through my hands, the room around me. All I could see was the hotel room, that four-poster bed. All I could think about was how he felt inside me, how it felt when he used me, tortured me. How he had sighed, exhaling so completely his whole body relaxed against mine. How he had almost lovingly removed the sheets tying my wrists, massaging my arms to get rid of any cramps, and tucked me into his embrace, our bodies still shuddering after our joint climax. How he held me tenderly, his fingers stroking my hair, his body curled around mine, his lips nuzzling my neck.

How good it all felt.

What should have felt like confusing inconsistency, for him to be so affectionate after what he had done to me, instead felt... right. Like we had shared something powerful. As if the game of control or force was just as much about him testing his limits as he was testing mine. I couldn't understand it, but I knew it was pointless to waste time pondering it. I wouldn't see him again. He had gotten what he wanted and so had I, apparently. Now I knew who I was, what I needed, what I had to do.

-

When Aaron came home, I was sitting on the edge of the couch, tense and nervous. I had been sitting there for close to an hour, my suitcase on the floor next to me, my engagement ring on the otherwise bare coffee table. My hair was still damp but I removed it from the ponytail holder, letting it drift around my neck in the hopes it would hide any marks from last night.

Forcing myself to meet his eyes, I watched as his expression went from surprise to confusion to alarm when he saw the suitcase. His brow wrinkled and he walked slowly toward me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered in a tight voice.

"For what?" he asked warily. "What's going on?"

"I - I have to leave," I stammered. "I'm sorry, Aaron. I really am."

"Leave? What -" he began.

"I have to go," I said, standing up in a sudden panic.

I automatically looked down at the ring sitting on the expanse of wood, standing out as if there was a spotlight on it. I sensed his head move out of the corner of my eye and knew he had followed my gaze.

"Anna -" he said in shock.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "I'm so sorry. It's - it's just not going to work."

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and took a step toward the door but he stopped me, gripping my arms.

"No, don't go - talk to me," he implored.

His touch only reminded me of what I had done, what I had let another man do, the way my stranger had touched me. I shook my head frantically.

"I can't. You - you should just forget me. I don't deserve you," I said in a rush. "I never wanted to hurt you, please believe me. But I have to go."

I wrenched my arms from his and ran to the door, feeling him grab for the suitcase and making me stumble.

"Anna, wait," he pleaded. "Let me talk to you -"

"Please," I begged, picking up the suitcase in both hands. "Please, just let me go. I'm sorry."

I caught a glimpse of his stunned expression before darting out the door, hating myself but not allowing myself to stop. When I reached my car I threw the suitcase in and was driving away before I even put my seatbelt on.

-

I drove for hours, turning around to go back home - Aaron's home, I corrected myself - several times, only to get back on the highway heading in the opposite direction again. I turned up the radio in a futile attempt to block out my thoughts, berating myself for how I had left. It was bad enough that I cheated, but to just rush out...that wasn't how I'd hoped to explain it. I just couldn't form the words. I couldn't form any words. There weren't any words that would prevent him from hating me, anyway. Maybe it was better for him to just think I was a bitch who would run out without explanation than it would be to hear the truth.

I didn't stop until I got to a small town on the coast, checking in to the first hotel I saw. Ignoring the texts and voicemails from Aaron, I called work and made up an emergency to let them know I wouldn't be in for at least a few days. I turned off my phone and crawled into bed, waiting for the tears to come.