Shower

If you don't understand the difference between fantasy and real life, please move on. And, please do not post the story elsewhere without my consent. As always, voting is appreciated.

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The Shower

You have just come in from a long week at work, TGIF. You make a drink and plop down in an overstuffed chair, kicking off your shoes. The events of the week cascade over you as you sip. Then you let it all go and feel the muscles in your neck relax. It feels so good you close your eyes and mentally will the tension out of your head and face, then down your body, hands, arms, chest, stomach, and down, down, down to your feet. You sit in a trance like that for minutes, reveling in the feeling of nothingness. Your relaxed state continues as you open your eyes and sip again, set the glass down and draw in a deep breath before exhaling fully.

The weekend is ahead of you, and nothing is planned. You consider several options while finishing the drink. Then you rise and pull off your sweater. It is folded and laid on the table. Next the modest white bra follows. Skirt unzipped, pantyhose and white panties down. A pile has accumulated on the table. You smile knowing that you are going to walk naked through to the bathroom. It is so different than the way you were raised.

You luxuriate in the wet heat, the water cascading over your body, needle jets working from one place to another as you move. Body wash slides over your skin as it is applied, making it feel alive. The smell reminds you of long walks in fields and meadows. Finally, the shower has washed away all the tension of the day.

Just as you turn off the water, you are grabbed, one hand over your mouth and one at the waist. You are lifted and swung to the floor. Your right hand cushions your fall, but is pinned against the tub. Your left is grabbed and raised behind your back, wrist up until it is almost painful. The faintest of whispers asks, "Do you need to be gagged?"

You struggle again against the weight of his body and the hands that hold you. The right hand over your mouth pinches your nose, cutting off your ragged breathing. You panic and thrash about trying to claw at the hand covering your mouth, but your right arm is trapped and his weight is too much to budge. Your screams rise up from your lungs, only to be muffled in your throat. Your knees and elbow slide on the wet floor, unable to get a grip on anything to push off.

You hear a whisper again in your ear. "Stop." You have nothing to lose and collapse like a dishrag on the floor. Immediately, the finger and thumb are removed from your nose, and you gasp, filling your starved lungs with precious air. He doesn't move for over a minute as you calm down. "Do I need to gag you? Or can you refrain from making noise?" You shake head no, then yes. "I would hate to pinch your nose again," the whisper is soft and controlled, the veiled threat ominous. You shake your head back and forth.

His weight shifts, pressing your left arm into your back. You feel his hand moving in your hair, and a blindfold covers your eyes. "The blindfold is your friend. It would not be wise to see me," the whisper so soft you aren't sure you even hear it. His weight shifts to his side and you feel something slipped over your left wrist. He pulls you to your left and he grabs your right hand and twists it behind your back. You are pushed back against the tub, which traps your right arm behind your back. Something slips over that wrist as well and closes tightly.

What will he do to you, you wonder? The hand is still pressed tight over your mouth. The smell from his hand fills your nostrils. Will you scream for help if he removes it? Will anyone hear it and come to your rescue? Your hands are useless now, tied behind you. A feeling of helplessness washes over you.

You are pulled to your feet. His right arm encircles your waist and he lifts you easily and carries you into the combined living area. He continues to hold you from behind, his hand over your mouth, as you feel him reach for something and move about. He reaches and you can feel leather close about your neck. It is tightened more. You hear a rope whispers through a fitting above you and hands are at the back of your neck. You are pulled upward until you are standing straight. The whisper at your ear, "Nothing above a whisper will be permitted".

You nod. The hand relaxes and moves away. You gratefully breathe in through your mouth. You listen in the silence for a hint of what will come next. Fingers fumble at your wrists. Then they are pulled back and you hear him a few feet behind you. When you hear him at your side again, your wrists remain back, pulling in one direction, and your collar in the other.

This can't be happening to you, it just can't. Someone must come to rescue you, but who? You aren't expecting anyone. You have to take the chance. You consider screaming, trying in your confused state to weight the pros and cons of that action. You take a deep breath and open your mouth. Your voice catches in your throat as he whispers, "no". You are more startled than if he had yelled at you. "I can gag you if that is what you want. Some women like to be gagged."

"No," you say, hoping he'll reconsider. You know that a gag makes it harder to breathe deeply.

"Nothing above a whisper," he responds. You nod in agreement.

A stick pushes gently, but insistently under your chin. You move your head up, the stick holding it in place. It pushes on up, stretching out your neck. Then it pushes your head to one side as if examining you, then the other. You decide to go with the flow. HE hasn't hurt you yet, although you are still scared. Your initial panic has subsided, and you feel as though you just might make it through this ordeal.

The stick rests lightly on your left thigh, pushing slightly, drawing your attention away. Then you feel it on your right one. You close your legs, conscious of your nudity. Whir, Smack, the thin rod hits your left thigh, then the right. You are aware of the pain for an instant, and then it fades. It is too close to your private area for comfort. You close your legs until they are touching and hope for the best.

Whir -- smack, whir -- smack, over and over. You breathe through your mouth, not daring to scream out, the pain taking over your mind. As the stick hits spots for the second and third time, you are sure you can take any more pain. Then you remember the stick pushing up your head. You think of the stick pushing at your thighs. You take a chance and part your legs, opening yourself up to HIM. The pain stops. The stick is once more pressing at your injured left thigh and you move your left foot out farther, feel yourself opening up and the collar putting a little pressure on your neck. Then it pushes on the right thigh. You move that foot as well, realizing that the position is uncomfortable, but it will be bearable for a while.

The stick is back, this time tracing a line up and down your back. You shiver from the stick, but also know that your body is still drying off from the shower. It slowly traces a line up, up the inside of your left leg, stopping just short of your pussy. You shiver again. Then you feel it on the inside of your right leg. It takes forever to reach the top and pull away. You hear a groan, and realize it is coming from your throat.

HE chuckles and a finger touches you lightly at the bottom of your pussy. HE drags it through your lips so slowly, at times you think he has stopped. You hear a slurp down there, and you fell your upper torso redden as the embarrassment of it flows through your body. It is like an electric shock when he gets to your clit and pulls the hood back as his finger continues its journey. Damn.

HE chuckles again. Your scent is suddenly strong in your nostrils. You wrinkle your nose and turn your head away from this gross smell. Whiff - SMACK! You catch yourself before you scream as a strip of pain explodes from your right breast. Damn, that hurt. You turn your head quickly back to the middle and inhale loudly through your nose, hoping he would not hit the other one. The smell is strong. You knew his finger must be right under your nose. You inhale loudly again. A few seconds and you relax, the anticipation of a second strike ebbing from your body.

The smell is gone. The stick is back behind you again, up the inside of your thighs, across your cheeks. Now it is dangerously close to your anus, causing another shiver. You brace yourself against the fear of where the stick might go, and are proud of yourself for not moving. It moves up your back to a spot between your shoulder blades. It pushes lightly and you respond to the unspoken command by pushing out your chest. The stick lifts up your hair, exposing your neck, and lets it fall.

Now it is around front. Your left breast is lifted and bounces lightly as the stick pushes from underneath. You are conscious that HE is examining you carefully and gagging your reactions to HIS every move. You have never felt so exposed as you are now, naked and with your breasts thrust out for his perusal. Apparently satisfied, the stick moves to the right one. You are suddenly aware that your nipples are aching and realize they are as hard as rocks. You silently pray that HE won't touch them. You have no idea how you would respond.

The end of the stick strokes the crease at the top of your leg starting from the hip and you let out a your breath. You are ticklish there, and twist your body back and away from it. Whiff -- SMACK! Pain sears the nipple on your other breast. UGOGaaaaa! You grunt in a loud whisper. You quickly turn back to center and thrust your breasts back out for HIM. "Sorry," you whisper through the pain. The stick is back again at your leg crease. You steel yourself to the sensation, trying not to giggle. Your stomach contorts as the tickling persists, but you keep yourself in position.

The finger again slowly is pulled upward through your pussy. The slicking sound is evidence of your arousal. You dare not move as it parts your lips, finally stroking your clit again. When you smell your arousal, you inhale, once, twice. The finger is at your lips. You open them, promising yourself that you will do whatever it takes to avoid more punishment. You taste yourself for the first time, and surprise yourself by not gagging. Not as bad as you thought it would be. The finger on your tongue, twists to get the taste fully in your mouth. You suck the finger and then it is gone.

Your legs are starting to ache from being spread so far apart. You feel the stick on the outside of your left leg, pushing gently and you gratefully step inward. Then the right, and you are able to relax a bit, although your breasts are unnaturally thrust out. Fingers fumble at your wrists and the pressure on them relaxes.

The stick moves up the left side of your body. You tense waiting for the pain from it, but nothing comes. It gets to your shoulder and pushes. You allow yourself to turn your back to HIM. A gloved hand lightly moves about your back, only touching you ever few seconds. Then it strokes the curves of your ass. The piece of wood touches you again, and you turn another quarter of a turn for HIS examination.

When you have completed the circuit to HIS satisfaction, you feel HIS fingers at the back of your neck and you are released. Your wrists, tied behind you, are then pulled upward, bending you over. The end of the stick is drawn over one nipple, then the other, over and over, until they ache with arousal. You can sense your breathing quicken, you're sure from the awkward position.

PAIN! It radiates from your left nipple. HE has put something there. It is heavy and pulls the nipple towards the floor. You grunt as nerve endings shoot insistent messages to your brain. It swings, the teeth biting into different parts of your nipple as it moves. PAIN! Now the right nipple. You take a deep breath and grit your teeth to stand the pain. Whatever is there swings back and forth a few times before stopping.

Several seconds pass. Whatever is on your nipples is pushed and swings back and forth, back and forth, finally stopping. You wait. Whiff -- SMACK! The stick hits the outside of your left breast. The weights swing wildly as you shake, guttural sounds coming from your chest, but you hold your breath to keep from screaming out loud. You feel them slow and stop. Whiff -- SMACK! The stick hits the outside of your right breast causing the weights to swing again.

He wants something; you just know it. What is it? Whiff — SMACK! You move from side to side to get the weights to move. They tug at your nipples as they swing, but the discomfort is slight compared with the welts raised by the stick. The punishment has stopped. You gyrate back and forth, and wonder how long you have to keep swinging the weights.

You can almost feel HIS stare as HE watches your breasts point downward toward the floor. HE stops the left one and adds more weight to it, swinging it to get it started with the right one. You don't take the chance of stopping while HE works. You can feel the added pull on your left nipple. The teeth grip tighter now and you can feel the weights more on each side of the nipple as they swing. The right one is stopped and the added weight applied to it as well before it swings.

A long minute goes by. HE taps your left thigh again with that damn stick and you step wide, one foot, then the other, as before. Your back is beginning to cramp up. You feel him pull one of your lips out, and a weight is attached to it. Another is applied, then 2 to the other side. You don't need to be told what to do. You swing those weights as well as those on your nipples. You are breathing fast now with the exertion. Sometimes the weights hit your thighs as they swing. What a sight you must be. You would blush if you only could.

You feel HIS finger slide over your clit. HE holds it there as you move back and forth, always keeping the weights in motion. You grit your teeth at the sensation. It feels so damn good—no you can't believe you just thought that. But there is no denying the fact that you are close to cumming. Every move you make now brings you in contact with HIS finger. And every time the weights swing you can feel the sensations HE has set up on those erogenous zones. You are close. So close. You feel yourself start to shake. You swing the weights a little more and push a little harder into HIS finger. With a chuckle, HE pulls his finger away. The clips are removed from your pussy lips, then from your nipples, and you can finally stop. You shake your head. HIM stopping IS what you wanted, isn't it?

The rope is relaxed once again, and you stand up thankfully, although a little wobbly. You hear your breathing- a bit labored still. You smell your odor, and open your mouth for HIS finger. You know where it has been, but you suck it anyway. What is the point of such petty nuisances now?

HE steps behind you and HIS fingers work at the kinks in your back. This act shakes you, since it tells you that HE knows what you are going through, and thinks of you as more than a sex object. It was easier before to hate the man who was raping you. As HE works the knots out, you try and sort out your feelings. You know that you would have cum in another half minute. And something deep inside tells you that it would have been extraordinary.

Back around the front. He is brushing something over your nipples—the back of his hand, or the back of his fingers, perhaps? You find yourself pushing into the stimulation, although you can also feel the sore spots on each nipple. Now something entirely different grates over them. The stimulation there is intense now. You don't know whether to pull back or to push into it, but you know that you need to keep your breasts thrust out for HIM. Just when you think you will either scream or cum from the sensation, it stops.

Your wrists are again lifted in the air as the rope is pulled up and you bend over with a groan. HE fumbles about in front of you, but you can't make out what HE is doing. A variety of sounds involving metal...but you can't make sense of it. Then HE is behind you, sliding a table into place and doing...you don't know what. You wait in silence. Snap. A rubber sound? A tap of the wooden rod on one thigh and your feet spread apart as of their own will.

A touch around your anus makes you clench your buttocks. Nooooooooo. Nobody touches you there. It is gooey and slides around while you tense your muscles willing it to stop. The finger slides in your private hole, then back out. Around in a circle, daring you to tighten your asshole. Then it pushes past the little wrinkly gate and back out as you tense up. Finally it enters and remains still.

You stand, holding your breath, waiting for something else to happen. The seconds tick by. You have an uneasy feeling HE is waiting for you to do something. You grind your teeth in frustration and push back against his finger. It slides in easily with the lubrication HE has used. You are surprised that it doesn't hurt, but the embarrassment of having a finger in your ass is there still. Forward now, letting it slide out. When it pops out, a tingle shoots in all directions from your nether region. Nooooo, it can't be. But there is no choice and you back yourself onto it again, especially feeling the fingertip as it touches the outside and then breaks through your sphincter.

A rhythm starts as he holds his finger steady. You find that it is more erotic if you let it slip all the way out, but you only do that every once in a while. You feel your hanging tits sway with the movement and are reminded by your nipples that you are turned on. Grrrrrrrrr, this can't really be happening to you. It must be a nightmare. Things like this don't happen in real life. You suddenly realize that you're not tense anymore, back there and that you are pushing all the way onto his hand. You pull all the way out and just push onto the end of his finger half a dozen times. How could this feel so good?

The finger is gone, the glove is snapped off. "Please," you whisper, but there is no answer, and you feel vaguely empty. Something slides on the floor behind you, something else in front. You wait. An object pushes against your pussy and you push back onto it without thinking. It fills you deliciously with a slurping sound, but it isn't HIM.

You start a rhythm again, wishing you could get at your clit. You let it slip all the way out before pushing back against it again. A groan passes from your lips. You can smell yourself. Before it was the smell of fear and then sweat. Now it is the scent of your sex. The liquid sounds are unmistakable. HE has to know how turned on you are. Your legs ache now, as do your arms from their raised position behind your back. You push back hard and something scrapes your hanging nipples, causing the sensation to radiate directly to your pussy.

HE pulls up on the rope holding your wrists, and you feel the scraping every time on your nipples now. It is too much. Smack! His bare hand strikes your ass. Are you doing something wrong? You push back harder onto the dildo. Smack! His hand hits the other side. It draws your attention away from the sensation overload at your nipples, but does nothing to cool the fire in your loins. Smack. Smack. His hand hits every time you impale yourself on the cock. But you can't stop now. HE couldn't do that to you.

The sensations all run together in your mind. You can't concentrate on anything. Just keep going. Faster. Faster. You don't realize that his hand is hitting harder or that you are allowing yourself to droop lower drawing your nipples over the rough surface below them. You are going into overload, your breathing ragged. Guttural sounds pour from your throat, all remembrance of HIS command to keep still forgotten. Almost there, almost.