Pen Pals

CW: this story contains heavy elements of non-consent

This is my first attempt at writing non-consensual sex, something I wasn't totally comfortable with but was encouraged to attempt. Any feedback is encouraged, so please feel free to tell me if you like it or not, and why!

This is obviously not meant to portray a healthy BDSM relationship (or any other kind of relationship for that matter), however I hope you enjoy it!

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Grace was a young woman, with pale skin and flowing dyed-red hair. Blessed with a beautiful face and a slim, busty body, she never struggled for attention. But it was finding the right kind of attention that was the issue, finding someone who shared her... interests.

She had met Jack on an online dating site for kinky people a few months ago. She'd never really tried online dating before, but she'd been single for a while and, well... Girls have needs... Especially Grace, she had been craving it, she needed it, to feel controlled, owned. Some things she could do herself, but she couldn't dominate herself. Jack seemed like just what she was looking for. Tall, well built, as broad as a barn door and just as tough. With blue eyes and hair as black as the leather jacket he was never seen without. And he was good. The way he wrote, the way he spoke, the things he said, they had a remarkable effect on her. She had fallen under his spell, under his control. By the time he had traveled to meet her, her body was aching for his touch. Finally they had a date to meet, she would collect him from the train station, and go for something to eat, and then maybe back to her flat, if things went well.

The closer the day had gotten, the more needy Grace had become. She couldn't wait for the next time, she decided. She knew it was stupid, to invite him over the first time they met in person, to give him control over her so soon, but he seemed so nice in their conversations, and so good at what he did. She wanted him, she needed what he would give her. She couldn't wait.

The meal went well, the two chatted and laughed, teasing each other a little, enjoying the food, having a drink or two. It was a great time all round, but they both had other things on their mind. Rules were agreed, and safewords were discussed. They both knew the other's limits, and what they wanted. It was to be a taster, a playdate to explore each other, to find out what they were capable of, whether they were compatible, nothing more. There was to be no sex, not yet, although they could both tell the other wanted it. They couldn't wait to get started. No sooner had they finished desert than he was persuading her to take him to the flat, and she didn't take much persuading. The bill was settled, a taxi was called, and they headed off.

The whole ride he kept his hand on her thigh, just tight enough to remind her of what was coming, that for tonight he owned her, that she was his plaything until the morning. His touch excited her, made her want him more. His hands were huge and wrapped so easily around her fishnet clad thigh. She couldn't wait to see what they'd do to her when they got in. Finally the car arrived outside her flat, and they squeezed into the small lift. Because of the cramped conditions she was forced to stand close to him, and the size difference was even more apparent. Even in her heeled boots he was more than tall enough to look clean over her head. The scent of his aftershave filled her nostrils, and it smelt great.

As she stood there Grace couldn't help but imagine what would happen, her mind flooded with dirty thoughts and fantasies, wishing for things she hadn't had in so long. Finally the lift doors opened, and she headed down the hallway, doing the best to hide her excitement, and keep a slow pace. She was desperate to please, but she didn't want to make it too obvious just yet. He followed after, his long legs moving slowly, in a measured, deliberate march. His heavy boots banged on the floor, and Grace could hear them getting closer. Finally she arrived at the door, and pulled out her keys, as he stood behind her, close. His presence towering over her made her nervous, and excited. She fumbled with the keys, before the door opened at last and she darted in.

The door to the flat closed behind Jack with a heavy thud, as Grace kicked off her boots. Finally they were together, alone. For so long they had talked, and flirted, playing out all their fantasies over text or Skype. Since they had met they have gone from strength to strength, always pushing, always having more and more fun. He was something else, she craved him, was obsessed with him, he controlled her without ever laying a finger on her, and she loved it. Finally now they could do it in person though. He was talented no doubt: he had a way with words, and could make her more excited with a text than most men could with their hands, but Grace couldn't wait to see what he could do with his hands. She didn't have to wait long. Straight away he grabbed her, his big, strong hands gripping her by the waist, pulling her towards him, holding her tight.

"Are you ready, kitten?" He asked, staring down into her big, brown eyes.

"Yes..." She sighed, a long lustful sigh, looking back up at him.

"Good," he growled back. "Take off your coat."

Dutifully she threw back her arms, and slid the long black trench coat from her shoulders, revealing her outfit beneath. A slim black dress clung to her, accentuating her already generous breasts and showing off her amazing curves. Ending high on the thigh it revealed plenty of her long, pale legs, clad in fishnet tights.

"Oh my," he said in his deep voice, as he looked her up and down, "what a treat you are."

Grace could see the smile grow on his lips as he admired her, and she loved it. Playfully she twirled in front of him, showing off, sucking in his attention and letting it fuel her. The smile grew on her lips, and her eyes grew brighter and wider as his adoration built her up.

Then suddenly he took a step. Grace flinched, stopping dead as he moved towards her. Slowly, deliberately he began to pace around her, as he removed his coat, the black leather jacket giving way to reveal an equally black shirt underneath, embroidered with intricate patterns, and with a matching tie around the collar. Black jeans and big, black boots completed the look. His hair was slicked back, and as black as his clothes, in stark contrast to his pale skin, and emerald eyes. Like a panther he stalked around her, looking her up and down, as she was rooted to the spot. Finally he came to rest behind her, his hands on her waist, and he lent down, putting his mouth right by her ear to whisper,

"Shall we begin?"

The toys were all laid out around the room, restraints already tied to the bed, handcuffs waiting, a ball gag, blindfold, collar and leash. Everything a dom could want to inflict pain, and pleasure, was available, and Grace couldn't wait to have them all used on her. Her excitement grew quickly as Jack slammed her back forcefully into the wall, and moved his hand to her throat.

"I've waited for this for so long," he growled, "I'm gonna have so much fucking fun." His hand began to grip, squeezing her neck, making it difficult to breathe, "I'm gonna hurt you so fucking bad." Still tighter he gripped, breathing was impossible now no matter how hard Grace heaved and panted. "I'm gonna choke you so fucking much." Jack's face moved closer to hers, she could feel his hot breath on her lips, as her head began to spin and go light. "I'm going to make you my fucking bitch." The grip on her throat released just as the strength disappeared from her limbs, and she fell slightly, being supported by his strong arms. Not waiting for Grace to recover he spun her around, and forced her face first into the paint, holding her in place with a hand on the back of her head as the other caressed her body through the thin fabric of her dress. Everywhere his hands touched, her skin flushed hot, even through her clothes.

He had been teasing her about today ever since they had arranged to meet, the whole time he had been travelling here she had been thinking about him, preparing herself, getting herself worked up. It had taken a lot of effort to sit still and be ladylike as they ate dinner. His deep voice had been lighting fires inside her as they chatted and laughed. The more the night went on the more she saw the side of him she was looking for. After a pint his voice was dripping with cruel intent. Instinctively she hung on his every word. Stifling a whimper when he would make a threat, and smiling sweetly at every compliment.

She was brought back to the here and now when she felt his hand grab her bum, and it sent a shiver of excitement up her spine. Finally. His hand traced upwards, teasing, taking its time, as she stood helpless in his grip. He grasped the zip, and began to tug. Every inch the zip moved made Grace more excited, more needy, more desperate for his touch against bare skin. As the zip reached the bottom he pulled the dress down, exposing her, and she stepped timidly out of it as it landed in a pile on the floor, leaving her in only her lacy black underwear and tights.

"Aren't you just fucking gorgeous?" He growled, running his hand up her back.

"Thank you..." She purred, shivering as his hands explored her, tracing up from her hips to her waist, and she whimpered as he dug in his nails. His claws dragged over the skin of Grace's midriff, leaving red lines like tiger stripes, wrapping around her.

"Ahh, owww" she moaned, clenching her fists.

"Oh, did that hurt, kitten?" he teased

"Yes..."

"Good." He snapped back. "It was fucking meant to." It hurt so good. He drew back, and slapped her hard across the marks he had just left on her back. "Did that fucking hurt too, slut?"

"Yes!" She squealed, feeling the sting shoot through her. Again he hit her, and again, across all of the marks he had left in her skin, and each time Grace squealed louder. "Ahhh, oww, stop, stop!" She pleaded, and finally he relented, leaving her whimpering, shaking slightly as she held her wounds. "Fuck... Ahhh... You're, you're cruel... You didn't start gently, did you? " She panted

"Oh, that might not have been gentle" he laughed, "but I'm just getting started, we have a long way to go..."

Grabbing Grace by the hair he pulled her from the wall, spun, and pushed her towards the bed.

"Lie the fuck down" he ordered,

"Get fucked" she spat back with a smile, still standing.

"Excuse me?"

"Get. Fucked." She repeated, staring at him, defiant.

Anger boiled inside him, and he took a long, slow, loud breath. Slowly he stepped towards her. One pace. Another. With each step Grace grew more afraid, the sound of his footsteps sent fear through her body. Her heart thumped in time with his boots, beating harder as he got closer. She tried to stay calm, to not show the fear, but her body betrayed her; as he stepped next to her she flinched, without him making a move, or saying a word.

"Look at me," he instructed, gently. She didn't move a muscle, instead staying staring at the ground. "Look at me," he repeated more forcefully, but still she didn't react. His hand slid under her chin, gently cupping it, and he tilted her head back, but still her eyes looked away, swivelling to avoid his gaze. Then his hand gripped, squeezing her cheeks, hard. "Look. At. Me." He demanded, his voice turning to a bark. Quickly her eyes shot to meet his, and saw that there was a fire within them. Fear flashed through her brain, but was quickly replaced with determination; she wasn't about to be beaten quickly.

"What the fuck was that about?" He asked, still holding her tight.

"Get fucked." She giggled back again. He didn't reply, only gave a long, hard sigh, staring into her eyes. She waited a moment to see what he would do, and, encouraged by his inaction, continued. "You're gonna tie me up already? That's no fun."

"Oh it's fun," he growled in reply.

"Aw, what's the matter? Not up to a bit of a struggle? Gonna let the ropes do all the work?"

Immediately her words had the desired effect: his anger boiled over. Releasing his grip on her face he instead swung, and his palm connected with her cheek with a loud slap, sending her reeling.

"You need to show me some fucking respect, cunt." He shouted, "have you forgotten your fucking manners? Do I need to teach you your manners again?"

"Fuck you," she spat back. She knew he could do better, do worse. She wanted to see how far she could push him.

"When I am nice to you, you say 'Thank you, Master.' When you want something, you say 'Please Master.' When you make a mistake, you say 'Sorry Master.' Do you fucking understand that, cunt? You treat me with respect. Respect your Master." Every word was more angry than the last, deeper, louder, until his voice boomed like thunder in her ears. He was loud, and intimidating, his large, well-built frame towered over her small, slender one, the bass in his voice reverberated in her lungs. She was afraid, but she wasn't beaten yet.

"You're not my fucking master," she replied, defiant. "You're nothing, you're just a guy with a lot of fancy words. You've hardly lain a finger on me. I'm not afraid, I'm not beaten. You are not my master, and you never fucking will be. You don't deserve that title, you don't deserve respect."

"I deserve whatever I fucking want." He grabbed her by the throat as he continued, "you will give it, or I will take it. I am so much bigger, so much stronger. I will beat the respect into you, and then I will fuck you, when you deserve it. Your body is mine and I will do-"

"Woah, woah," she interrupted, "you don't get to fuck me. No way, not happening, that's not what this is about.

"Okay, okay, sorry, got a bit carried away," he admitted, releasing his grip, relaxing. Taking a breath he reset himself, and then again went for her throat. "I will make you fucking fear me. I will make you fucking respect me. I will beat you until you do."

"Try it," she mocked, unphased. Jack didn't need telling twice. His grip on her throat tightened, cutting off her breath, and his other hand slapped her across the face, forehand, then backhand. The pain of his hand connecting with her face made Grace grunt, and groan. She could taste blood in her mouth. Her head spun with the impacts, and she could already feel her cheeks beginning to swell, and bruise. As she regained her senses from the hits she realised how close she was to passing out from his choking. Her heart was pounding. Her breathing was panicked and desperate. She could feel the blood pooling in her face as she struggled and fought, with no success. Her eyes grew wide, her vision dark. Her muscles went weak. Her fingers tugged at his hand with what little strength she had left, but his grip was much too strong. Finally, just as she got to the very edge of consciousness, he relented. His fingers opened, releasing their grip, and the blood rushed back to her head, pumped by her heart beating hard in her chest, as hard as it ever had. Her muscles were weak though, and she slumped to the ground with a thud.

"Get up." Barked Jack, no hint of compassion in his voice. Grace struggled, trying to find strength, trying to find her feet, but she couldn't push herself off the floor, she was too dazed, too weak. "Get up!"

Slowly she managed to push herself to her knees, as the blood pressure normalised around her body, and oxygen returned to her brain. "Fuck," she panted, looking up to see him standing over her, looking down, watching her every move. Her chest heaved, pushing her breasts up in the tight fitting bra, which was struggling to hold everything in. Her mouth was open wide, as she panted, and her eyes were tilted up to meet his gaze.

"Get. Up." He repeated, as he admired her gorgeous body. Grace struggled to her feet, wobbling and shaking on still-weak legs. "Against the wall." His eyes followed her, watching her walk, admiring the swing of her hips and the slight jiggle in her breasts and bum as she moved across the room, to stand where he was pointing. "Good, stay." As she reached the edge of the floor he turned and walked over to the bed, picking up a pair of handcuffs which she had left out for him. The cold metal clinked and jingled in his hands as he inspected the mechanism, toying with it as he walked towards her. The sound triggered something in her brain, and adrenaline and endorphins flooded her bloodstream. So many times she had been cuffed with those before, so much fun had been had with them. So much pain had been endured - no, enjoyed - whilst she was wearing them. Suddenly, and without a word he grabbed her hands, twisting them behind her back and making her grunt as her face and chest pressed against the paint. The cuffs clicked closed, tight, pressing into the skin of her wrists and rubbing uncomfortably as Grace struggled.

"Open wide," he told her, as he removed the tie from his neck, and placed it gently between her lips, and wrapping the ends around her head, under her dark red hair, before tying it tight. Wrapping a hand around her neck, he pulled her against him, and held her there, squeezing gently, as he told her,

"Now I'm gonna do anything I want to you. And you can't do a fucking thing about it." Her eyes grew wide with his words, fear began to grow inside her, but also excitement. His grip felt hot against her skin, and pushed up against his body she could feel the huge strength in his muscles. She knew she couldn't fight back, even if she wasn't tied and gagged, that she'd have to take his beatings. She was under his control, whether she wanted it or not, and nothing excited her more.

The adrenaline pumped hard as he pushed her against the wall. Her breathing grew faster as his hands traced down her body, over her waist and hips, to her bum. Pausing a second, he wrapped his fingers around the strings of her fishnet tights, and pulled. Effortlessly he tore a hole, baring the pale skin beneath as Grace grunted and struggled in protest. Drawing back he spanked her where he had made the hole, and she squealed into the gag. His big hand left a perfect, stinging, red outline where it had hit, embedding the shape of his hand and the pattern of her tights in her skin. Running his hands over her round bum he picked another spot, tore another hole, and spanked her. Then down her thighs he did the same, over and over, each time tearing the black string easily with his powerful fingers, and leaving painful marks on her skin.

With each hit her legs grew weaker, as the sting shot through her, and the dull ache grew in her muscles. Soon she was struggling to stand, staying half crouched in pain as she moaned and whimpered into the tie stuffed in her mouth. Satisfied that he had done enough his hands again moved upwards, teasing the red marks he had left, cupping and squeezing her bum as they passed, caressing her hips and the red lines on her midriff, sliding around to the front as they followed the line of her ribs, tickling and teasing as they went. Then they moved upwards, over her bra, slowly, pushing and cupping and squeezing, feeling the firm flesh underneath through the delicate lace. Grace groaned and grunted as he squeezed, his touch was rough, and felt sore on her sensitive breasts. She hated having them touched at the best of times.

"Red, red," she grunted into the gag, tapping on her arm, giving him the signal to stop. This was too far, this wasn't what they had agreed. He was nothing like he had seemed, she wanted out. But he didn't stop, he didn't react, he kept her held there, groping her.

She struggled, and tried to pull away from him, spitting curses and insults into the gag

"Fuck you, fuck you, don't you dare, don't touch me there. They're not for you. Fuck off. No!" She grunted, but the words were muddled by fear, blocked by the tie in her mouth. If he understood, he didn't react. One of his hands continued up to her neck, as the other worked into her bra. The fun fear was gone from her brain now, replaced by the real deal. This was no longer a thrill ride, this was a crash, the rollercoaster had come off the rails.