tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Masseur Ch. 02: The Ties

The Masseur Ch. 02: The Ties

bySamDeLouve©

I tried to read in bed that night, to no avail. I couldn't even focus on watching Netflix on my laptop. My thoughts were captivated by the hour I had spent on Marcus massage table. The causal way he had used my body without asking my permission. The way his cum had made my panties stick to my thighs. The way his fingers had pinched my clitoris so hard I cried. The thought of my best friend Rebecca tricking me into being used by a stranger. I could not stop thinking about any of it.

And talking about Rebecca: She had called me earlier, but I didn't pick up the phone. The humiliation was unbearable, even more so in front of Rebecca. I did not know whether to be angry or ashamed or sad or grateful. Either one of those things would mean I had to admit to her what she already knew: That Marcus had taken me against my will. I could not imagine ever being able to look her in the eyes again.

Who I could imagine looking in the eyes again was Marcus. In fact, it was all I thought about. I wanted him to do it all over again so bad I could hardly breathe or sleep or eat.

But there was a problem.

What Marcus had done was use me without my consent. He violated me, hurt me, used me, and no matter how sickening that was, it was also what had turned me on.

But now I wanted it. He had my consent, so how could he possibly violate me now? Next appointment would could not be anything but a disappointment.

Either way, a thousand wild horses wouldn't have been able to keep me from going the next day. My newly found hunger controlled me, and I wanted it to. I was going to go back there, I was going to lie down on his table and he would use me again. He had to.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, I had absolutely no idea what to wear. Dressing up in something sexy would show consent, so that was out of the question. Dressing down seemed contra-intuitive, but maybe it was still the way to go? By using underwear that was harder to remove, maybe I would seem less willing and more fuckable? I pulled a black sports bra over my head and put on pair of matching, tight women's boxer shorts. I regarded myself in the mirror. The shapes of my breasts, waist and ass were accentuated by the bra and boxer shorts, and I figured it was a good mix between alluring and prudent.

I went to work, already aroused, and spent the whole day trying to focus enough on my dull job to prevent my pussy from soaking my boxers. It was impossible. And then, it was finally 4:45 and time to leave.

I knocked on Marcus door, and after a few seconds of silly panic - what if he wasn't in? - I heard his chair pull back and breathed a sigh of relief.

He was just as professional as yesterday when he smiled and shook my hand. I blushed.

"Welcome. Come on in." He stepped aside and gestured for me to enter. "You can get undressed right away."

It felt surreal to be back in the room. He sat down at the computer, supposedly signing me in. For a second I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing. There was nothing about this room or this man that seemed even a little indecent or off. The feeling grew stronger after I had removed my clothes and he looked up at me in my black sports bra and boxer shorts, and didn't seem to react at all. Crap. I picked the wrong underwear after all.

"Please lay down, and we'll get started." Again with the professional and disengaged smile.

I got up on the table, feeling worried and already a little bit disappointed. My pussy, however, did not feel the same. It felt wet.

"So, do we prefer lemon scented or no perfume today?"

"Uhm. Lemon scented?"

"Good choice."

I laid down with my face firmly in the hole in the massage table, my legs on the leg rests. A chill went through my body when I remembered him spreading them to get access. I aced.

"The bra", he said matter-of-factly. "Perhaps you can remove it yourself."

He turned his back so he wouldn't see my breasts when I took it off. My heart fell.

The massage was great. Of course it was. His hands were soft and hard and oily, and even if I yearned for them to move in between my legs, I couldn't deny that they felt marvellous on my back. Five minutes into the session he still hadn't made a move, and I started to accept that nothing was going to happen.

But then something did happen. He moved down to the bottom of the bed and spread the leg rests apart. My heart started to beat faster. He spread them wider than yesterday, leaving me incredibly, delightfully exposed. He must have seen how wet my boxers were, but if he had he didn't show it. And he didn't touch my pussy.

He did however do something to my ankles. First, I felt movement underneath the left leg rest, and then something touched the skin on my ankle. I realized it must be some kind of a restraint. He pulled it hard around my ankle.

He was tying me down.

I felt a surge of fear go through my body as he got to work on the other ankle. Yesterday I had been able stop him at any time. Being forced to comply was something completely different. And not ok. I had not expected this, and panic started to fill my chest and brain, scrambling all my thoughts until I couldn't think at all.

I tugged at the leather restraints with my legs, but I was helplessly stuck. He didn't seem to care that I tried to free my legs, he just adjusted the leg rests and the restraints a bit, when there was a knock on the door.

I froze. Holy cow. He was going to open the door with me stuck in this position - legs spread wide and tied down, my wet pussy underneath the boxers facing the corridor like an open invitation. No. No. I could not be lying like this when another customer walked into the room to book an appointment. I was mortified.

He opened the door.

"Hi, good to see you", He didn't sound as professional as before. Friendly, but civilized.

"Good to see you too, Marcus, as always", a male voice replied.

"Come on in."

What the hell was going on? Why did Marcus let someone he obviously knew into the room, and why didn't he seem surprised to see him? I got up on my elbows and tried to turn around to see what was happening. A loud, cracking noise from my back stopped me half way through. Pain shot through it and I moaned.

"Nice", the voice said.

"I thought you'd like it."

Oh my god. My brain started to put two and two together.

I heard them moving up to the massage table. The pain in my lower back was so bad I could hardly stay on my elbows. I felt Marcus warm, oily hands on the sore spot, as he slowly and wordlessly began rubbing it. A few minutes of this, I told myself, then I would be able to get up and handle the situation.

"It's all set up", Marcus told the faceless stranger. "Enjoy."

"I always do."

"Can we ..." I started, but Marcus stopped me by pushing a thumb hard into the pain, and I lost my breath. Then he continued massaging me with those strong, soft hands. It had been a warning. At that instance I felt a third hand grab a firm hold of my pussy. No caressing, no touching my butt or the inside of my thighs, just instantly putting his hand on the boxers between my legs and giving me a good, hard squeeze. And oh my god. As shocked and disgusted as I felt, it might have been the sexiest moment of my life. My damp boxers were soaked in a second by this faceless stranger's shameless grabbing, and I cursed my pussy for once again betraying me. I defied the pain in my back and tried to protest, because I felt I had to. I couldn't put up with this. Couldn't just let people have their way with me. But I had forgotten about Marcus and his gentle goddamn touch. Calmly, as if it was a regular massage move, he now pushed both thumbs deep into the most sore part of my back and made me cry out. He knew exactly where the pain was.

"Nice", said the voice again, clearly appreciative of my wail, and kept handling my pussy with an unkind, rough hand. This time, Marcus didn't let the pressure go. The pain under his strong thumbs was unbearable. I held my breath and pushed my breasts into the table to try to shy away from his hands, but I couldn't. The only result was that I lifted my ass against the stranger's intrusive hand. It made me quiver with pleasure, just as Marcus thumbs had me quivering with pain.

"How do I get these off?" The stranger tugged at my tight boxers.

"There's a pair of scissors in the top drawer", Marcus answered and finally released his grip. The strangers hand disappeared and left my pussy yearning for it to come back. Goddamn pussy. A moment later I could feel the cold steel from the scissors press against my lower back, as the stranger started to cut my boxers open vertically, back to front. I realized he was going to cut them open right between my legs, the scissors touching my most sensitive parts. I felt a sting of what could have been fear, but more likely exhilaration. I laid paralyzed on the table. What choice did I have? There were a pair of scissors in my underwear and I my legs were tied. I was compliant.

The scissors reached my butthole. The stranger held them at an angle that couldn't possibly hurt me, but the mere thought of having something that sharp that close to my pussy made an inexplicable wave of grateful affection towards the stranger rush through me.

The blades passed my vagina, cold steel sliding across the opening, and moved on to my clitoris. The metal pumped up and down as he cut the fabric, and pressed against my clitoris with every cut. It felt incredible, and I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation fully. The stranger softly lifted my hips to cut the last part of the fabric in the front, and I helped him. He pulled the cut boxer shorts down each of my legs and grabbed a hold of my now naked pussy again.

"Nice", he said one more time. I agreed.

Marcus was back to massaging me the good way, and the stranger was trying out my hole with couple of fingers. And at that moment, everything was just mind-blowing pleasure. No pain, no fear, just relief from the panic and two men gently caressing me. I was in seventh heaven. The stranger's hands spread my butt cheeks and pussy lips apart, and he pressed his cock, stiff inside his jeans, against me. I moaned eagerly and pushed back towards it. It felt fantastic, his cock just a few millimeters of denim away from entering me, but the voice inside my head was screaming. This man was about to rape me, for god sake! Wasn't he? I mean, I was tied down and I never asked for this. I felt him pull out his cock of his jeans and put its head right up against my hole. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. My head had cleared from the lulling bliss of being massaged all over, and now reality hit me. I was tied up and about to be fucked. The voice inside my head finally reached my mouth.

"Please. I ... don't want this", I said, trying to sound calm and decisive, but I heard my voice tremble. With fear or excitement, I don't know. Probably both. Either way I'm sure it turned the man on exactly the way it wasn't supposed to. I tugged the leather belts around my ankles and tried to force my legs shut, but fighting it certainly didn't make him any less eager to sink his cock into me.

"Just ... don't, ok? We can talk about it. Come up with something ..." The head of his cock kept pressing against my hole, threatening to enter any second. And since my pussy just kept getting wetter, it would slip in quite easily once he wanted it to. The stranger's fingers blatantly smeared my juices across my clitoris, and I groaned. Yes, sure, I was soaking wet from his touch. It didn't mean anything. And it definitely didn't mean I wanted him to fuck me. I could imagine his smile, even if I still hadn't seen his face.

No, I wasn't fooling anyone. Not even myself.

"Say, Marcus", said the stranger after toying with me for a few minutes. "Is it possible to lower this?"

"Sure, let me just ..." Marcus bent down and pressed a lever on the side of the table. I tried to meet his eyes through the face hole, but he didn't look at me. The table sank five or six inches.

"Is this enough?"

"Just perfect."

When his cock once again touched my deliciously unprotected pussy I found myself shamefully relieved. He was going to enter me. Thank god. I closed my eyes and waited for the impact I so desperately needed. His cock was rock hard, and I imagined it much bigger than Marcus. So thick it had to be forced in, so long it would hit the back of my pussy with blissful agony. I silently prayed he would slam it in hard and deep, and that he would make me scream. I had no idea where all of this was coming from, and I was as horrified as I was turned on. Somewhere in the back of my head the voice told me that if I acted like a whore, I would still remember it tomorrow when everything was back to normal. And when I was not tied to a table and dripping with anticipation in this bubble of a room, I would have to live with having allowed this. I would never be able to wash this shame off. I would always know that I like having men abuse me, faceless strangers. There was no turning back from this. It would be a part of who I was forever.

I didn't care. All that mattered was this moment, and in this moment all I wanted was to be this guys whore.

Since they had lowered the table, his cock bent down slightly to slide in between my butt cheeks and rub my pussy as he leisurely stroke it against me. He smudged my juices all the way up to my ass. My hips tried to push against his cock, hoping to drive my pussy onto it somehow, but Marcus grabbed a hold my neck and the back of my head and pushed my face into the hole, effectively stopping my pussy from reaching the strangers cock.

"A towel?"

"Right there", Marcus answered

A towel? What was he going to do with a towel?

A second later, when he put his now dried cock against my butthole, I realized what was going on. He had wiped my pussy juices off himself and lowered the table to get easier access to my ass. Sure, my asshole had been lubricated with my own juices, but only a tiny bit, and only just around the rim.

He was going to enter anyway.

"No!!" I tried to scramble to my elbows and push Marcus hands off my head, fighting to get him off me. Suddenly being a whore seemed like a really bad idea. I had never had a cock inside my ass, and the very thought of it scared me shitless. Especially a dry cock. Why would he want it dry, for crying out loud?? It was going to hurt like ...

Oh.

I slowly lowered myself back onto the table, quickly trying to decide what to do with this realization. He was going to hurt me. He was going to dryfuck my ass (I couldn't believe I was even thinking that word), and the pain was going to be grueling. There would be just enough juices for him to enjoy a rough, forced entry, but there would be no enjoyment in it for me. My ass was going to be brutalized.

But then again ... wasn't that exactly what I had wished for? 'Enough to make me scream', wasn't that the exact words I had used a second ago? Wasn't this what whores liked? No. No, I had wished for Marcus to hurt me, not a faceless stranger. And not like this, by forcing a cock into my ass, but by squeezing my clitoris so hard it went numb.

Then I realized that Marcus had managed to do exactly what I worried he wouldn't: I was being abused. Some stranger was violating me, about to fuck me without caring about my pain, just like Marcus had done yesterday. This was what I had come back for. I felt scared, humiliated, abused and more excited than I had ever been before. I relaxed back down on the table.

"Good girl", Marcus said softly and stroke my hair. "Good girl."

I really, really wanted to be a good girl.

And then the stranger forced his dry cock into my ass, and I screamed. Marcus held my head down with his strong hands, understanding that my body would probably try to get away even if I wanted this. The stranger let out a deep groan, and in the middle of the excruciating pain I could feel a sting of pride that my ass made him groan. I was lightheaded. Time seemed to slow down and the sound of the room around me felt distant. I noticed Marcus jeans-covered groin right underneath my face - how had I failed to notice? - and the hard bulge revealed how much it turned him on to hold me down while this man broke my ass. Maybe Marcus would put his cock inside me too?

But then the world came rushing back, and the stranger pulled out, almost allowing me to catch my breath before his shaft went back in, and again I screamed.

Apparently, I was opening up to him, as if my ass welcomed a much anticipated guest, because with each push it got a little bit easier for him to enter me. Not easy enough for my pain to go away, but enough to have me worried that my ass would be less enjoyable if it got all stretched out. I used all the muscles I had to clutch his cock as tight as I could, trying to pump it rhythmically into my ass.

He moved his hands to my thighs, and with a hard jerk he yanked the leg rests apart as much as he could. The tendons in my inner thighs flashed with a pain that went all the way up to my pussy and exploded there. He held them apart in an impossible angle while he kept shoving his cock up my ass. By now I had stopped screaming, and every muscle in my body was strained as I tried to breathe through the pain. Marcus hands held my head into the table, harder and harder the more vigorously I was being fucked. The stranger was pounding my ass so violently it literally felt like it was going crack. I concentrated as much as I could on the cock in my ass, on the pain and the size and the humiliation, trying to save every detail in my memory so I could bring it back tonight, sleepless in my bed, trying to recreate every moment.

The stranger's balls were small and hard as rocks and hit my pussy over and over again. I felt the wave of an orgasm building up inside of me, every nerve in my body focused on the hard balls hitting my clitoris. Finally, I'd get to come. I had been waiting since yesterday. I was so excited I didn't even notice how the stranger's breath had become heavier, how he'd spread my butt cheeks so wide that the space between them was almost flat, and before I knew it Marcus lifted my shoulders and upper body into sitting position and pushed me down, impaling me on the stranger's cock. There was an explosion of cum filling my ass as I screamed out. I had never had my ass filled with cum before, and the sensation was amazing. I felt it shoot up, over and over again, bubbling and fighting for space in there, trying to slip out around his cock as he slowly lifted me up and down a few more times as he emptied the last drops deep inside me. The cum filled me to the point where I was not sure where it would go unless he pulled out quickly. And he did. I could feel it in there, slowly making its way out of my ass. My stomach turned and I almost chocked. I wanted him to do it again. I wanted to beg.

But he didn't do it again. Instead, they left me there on the table. Soaked in sweat, pussy juice and with cum everywhere, ass and back literally crying of pain.

"That was good", he said, but not to me. I pictured him drying his cock with the towel again. My ass missed it already. There was literally a cock-sized hole in it. "Always nice to get to force it in."

"I'm glad you liked it."

The sound of the zippers on his jeans.

"How much?"

"260."

Holy fuck. My cheeks instantly flushed. He was selling me. I was a prostitute. No, worse. There was no way Marcus was going to pay me for this. He was selling me as a service. I guess I had passed his test yesterday.

Money exchanged hands, they chatted a bit about having a beer soon and Marcus told the stranger to call him when he wanted a new appointment - my heart jumped with unwanted excitement at this - and then the door closed. I was once again alone with Marcus.

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bySamDeLouve© 3 comments/ 21576 views/ 11 favorites

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