The Seduction

I could hear her faintly muttering, "Please, please. please. Don't kill me, please. I'll do whatever you want. I'll do anything. Help me. Please." She was taking a mature gamble that giving-in, rather than fighting, would save her. I should have been ashamed. I was not! She was shivering noticeably and I could detect a terror-filled shudder to her mild voice. Yet she continued to be as composed as can be considering the circumstances, and never raised her voice or swore some impotent vengeance. But I knew that she was haunted by the moment. I could almost feel the warm tears as they crept down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. Under the bag at her neck, rivulets of sweat poured down both the front and back of her damaged dress. The soaked material acted like a second, soggy skin clinging to her dirty frame and revealing to my prying eyes her sodden, sexy body seemingly clad only in dampened, transparent under garments.

She was completely helpless. The dress torn and frayed. Her body sweaty and filthy. Large red bruises forming on her lower legs. And yet the rock-solid erection tenting the front of my pants noticed only how vulnerable was this damsel in distress. My throbbing cock jutting straight out, made walking a bit of a chore. I was forced to rearrange the jewels in their cramped confines and promised myself that it would soon be let loose. I took two cautious steps towards my feeble prey. The floorboards creaked under my timid advance, causing her frazzled nerves to jerk to attention, the way that a deer freezes when it spots a hunter in the field.

This was the point of no return. I was hovering above her, casting an unseen but ominous shadow over her quivering anatomy. I dropped my arm down to her slightly damp shoulder. An instant shudder convulsed her entire torso. Her alarmed reaction to my light touch even startled me, and my hand jumped like touching a hot stove.

A muffled whimper escaped her wary throat, "Who's that? What do you want from me? Please don't hurt me. I have some money... and a little jewelry, take it, it's yours. Why are you doing this?" I felt momentarily like a heel. This was a woman that I didn't even know, except in fantasies. Yet I was enthralled with her and had presumed to ask her for a date. She didn't know that I was alive. And here I am. I barged into her apartment; subdued and blanketed her eyes, then as she struggled, I overpowered her and drove her to her knees, taped her arms to a pipe, tearing her clothes and causing her fear and pain during the entire felonious process.

Still my stiff cock enlarged as I witnessed this unfortunate submissive victim undergoing her mysterious ordeal. What I intended as harmless flirting and seduction rapidly devolved into kidnapping and forcible rape. Our paths forward however, were set. I would be the attacker and she, the sacrifice. How or when this might end, I had no idea.

Now, I knew what must happen. My resolve, (along with my cock,) stiffened. With both hands, I applied just enough pressure to the damp flesh of her shoulders, to alert her that I was taking charge. My fingers combed through the tangled, soggy strands of her brunette mane. Loose tendrils of the silken locks were falling from under the gradually disintegrating sack that hid her scared expression. She uttered only slight grunts and frightened little sobs when my rough hands massaged her stiff neck and tense shoulders. I can't even remember if I said the words aloud, but I was thinking how sexy she looked and how soft her bare skin felt. I wanted to tell her that I would be gentle. And I wanted her to know that my intentions were honorable. Nothing seemed to make sense.

She was trying to act brave and was probably doing her best to ignore the deviant possibilities of this lewd situation. But when my grubby hand found the small zipper that held her battle-worn dress, she audibly let out a stilted, resigned sigh and mumbled, "Oh Gawd, it's really happening." I eased the zipper down along her quaking spine, relishing the S/M seduction unfolding at my fingertips. Temptingly, her broad, bare back was revealed to my ravenous eyes.

As the tiny metal tracks incrementally widened, the thin soppy strap of her baby-blue bra came into view tightly holding the flushed, slight rolls of flab on her upper body. I paused for a second, jostling the inconvenient bulge in my pants and a faint whistle escaped my lips. She turned a bit, not sure of my unspoken declaration. I continued and the concave curve of her lower back dipped to display the soggy elastic waist band of her undies. They were a matched set but appeared darker from the soaking moisture of her heavily perspiring bottom. A trickle of dewy liquid rode the indenture from the small of her back into the crack that separated her clammy cheeks. It was a sensual pose- her body wet and wriggling half-naked and bound at the wrists. The crude thoughts kept barreling into my brain to spank her bountiful backside and to shove my meaty tool into that forbidden, taboo cavern.

This reluctant unveiling weakened her. Her entire frame slumped forward, aching for distance from my loathsome hand as her wet, warm back was exposed to my prying eyes. She was wobbling unsteadily on her knees while her tired arms were anchored to the register. It offered no support as she stretched and strained to avoid my intrusive touch. Each movement brought tiny grunts and gasps of exhaustion and fear. She labored to relieve the stress on her shoulders and was growing more pliant with each passing moment.

I ran my fingers along her smooth back eliciting only a small ripple of defiance as she squirmed under my touch. She jumped smartly in place when my fingers unclasped the two small hooks that fastened her bra, but then seemed resigned to the inevitable. The shoulder straps went limp when it was unsnapped and the sides fell away. The only thing holding up the remains of her underwear was the tacky moisture from her jittery body. And as her body twitched or shimmied to try to keep the garments from falling, she was actually working against her best interests. Every muscle in her anguished frame that moved, caused the material to shift on her round form. As she squirmed, the tattered dress clinging delicately to her upper arms was sliding down and pulling the damp bra with it.

She realized what was happening but had no control over it. Shivering and worried, she couldn't just remain still, so her whole back was soon laid bare. Her back arched and her arms hunched but the sleeves slid down to her elbows taking the bra along. There in the folds of her arm it all came to rest, since her forearms were still tied above her. The bottom of the dress now hanging loose, started to glide down her thighs, leaving nothing but the wet, half-hidden panties as her last feeble line of defense. Another deep breath escaped her lips as she felt the cool air on her exposed back and could see in her mind that she was trapped in an indecent pose and her naked breasts were hanging loose for this ogling stranger to covet. Her quivering back, dirty and striped with lines from where her bra sat, planted more erotic imaginings in my head.

With waning strength, she tugged again at the restraints. The heavy, swaying tits

banged together sloppily, and the moist air on her warm chest caused her pouty nipples to firm-up. The bouncing breasts made a wet, slapping noise as her torso contorted with every effort to cover herself with what little was left of her tattered smock. I was standing right above her and was so tempted to grab those swollen jugs and milk them into my hungry mouth. I wanted to feel their warm, slippery meat as my fingers cradled the dark areolae and pinched the perky nubs.

I had her, why not enjoy her? My arms hesitantly spanned her sodden back and my hands reached around her, just above her waist. She had an extra roll of skin circling her abdomen and would be considered a "full-figured" woman. She would never be mistaken for a runway model but was definitely a "neighborhood MILF." She was not sloppy-fat. She just carried the extra pounds that a middle-aged woman might acquire and in this bent-over position, gravity took its effect.

It was dastardly and certainly not fair, that a fortyish woman, slightly overweight and obviously dressed down, should excite such deviant, sexual passions and intrigue that she wasn't secure in her own home. This body stirred my loins for some reason. I wanted to ravish her but I also wished that somehow she might find this imprisonment and rape to be seductive.

My fingers crawled along her warm skin, climbing slight mounds and feeling my way until I was able to discern her ponderous globes and cupped them warmly in my grasp. I felt a sudden intake of air to her lungs, and the chilling nervous tic of surprise when I captured her breasts in my grasp. I gripped the teetering, heavy bags and kneaded their exotic weight. The pliably soft skin rippled at my caress and I sensed the "goose-flesh" rise on her torso. Her body shivered and I felt the deep expansion of her chest cavity. "Be kind," I heard her whisper. She soon grew accustomed to the feverish manipulations of her perky nipples. Or possibly the erotic handling of the squat nips beckoned her to permit this inappropriate fondling of her pleasure points. She relaxed a bit allowing me to lean in closer and drive my hardened erection at her unprotected backside. I knew that I needed a release-valve and it had better come soon. Fortunately, her resistance seemed to be ebbing. I worked open my zipper and tugged my pants down with one hand, releasing my fully engorged lance to allow it to rub against her sift skin.

I weighed those dancing fun-bags in my palms and cradled them a bit roughly. Her heavy, rapid breathing seemed to indicate that she was accepting of it all and that I may have triggered a button that sent her own sex drive into high gear. She was giving-in to my "assault" if she was not entirely enamored of my efforts. I was kneeling behind her, leaning heavily on her back and squeezing her delicate boobs. My calloused hands must have roughly abraded her tender breasts. She squirmed and tried to place the heavy bottoms of those robust tits in my grip. My fingers pinched the raw, flexible nipples, causing her to ask, "Not so hard, just rub them softly." Her voice was like a cat's purring to my ears. We were both gasping for air, she was straining to remain upright as I wrapped my hands around her and under her torn clothing like an octopus insearch of food.

The sexual-Twister position we were in was awkward and not conducive to any form of sensual gratification. Plus, I reasoned, that we were both still wearing too many clothes. Her hands had been tied and holding her up for a while now, while her bruised knees were getting scraped and battered. If I wished for her to like this, or to like me in any way, I thought that I had better remedy the situation. Maybe a warm, dry bed with no restraints would enhance the mood. It was obvious to me that she no longer wished to escape, she only wanted me to be gentle and slow with my seduction. I reached for scissors and cut the tape, helping her to her unsteady feet in the aimless belief that she would succumb to further advances. I may have miscalculated.

Once upright, she went through the slow ritual of rubbing her sore wrists and stretching her tight legs. I was carefully conducting her to the bedroom where I intended that Nature take its course. Things went a bit haywire!

Like flipping a switch, her adrenaline must have kicked in. She ripped the soggy bag from her head, taking quick inventory of her disheveled appearance and of the uninvited assailant in her midst. I was observing with a bemused expression while she fingered the dirty, torn remnants of her dress, anticipating in my naive way, that she would allow it to further slide down her curvy thighs and offer her abundant charms to my eager appraisal. Instead, she tightly clutched the flimsy dress to her bare breasts and furtively scanned the room. In her frantic mind she must have been calculating the distance to the door, my relative strength and speed, and the odds of completing a bare-footed scamper past a double-locked door and down two flights of stairs.

It all happened so fast. Like a tiger, she pounced. First, she snapped-out a straight right hand like a heavy weight, landing her jab across the bridge of my nose. A rich flow of blood instantly colored my vision. Then she attempted to knee me in the balls. That trick was luckily telegraphed, and I slipped to the side, feeling the breeze from her strong thigh as it whistled past me. I could see that even after a grueling session of forced debauchery, she would not surrender easily. This woman, who was twice my age, almost naked, with ligature marks on her wrists, and who had endured sexual humiliation for the past hour, would not harmlessly give-in. For some ridiculous reason, and at this inconvenient moment, an old adage sprang to mind: "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog."

I was jarred out of the sexual liaison that I'd been imagining and was now faced with a vengeful viper. My eyes lit up as the realization of possible prison time, and the tables turned on who just might get raped, flashed before me. Catching me momentarily off-guard after deflecting her wild kick, she bolted for the door. I was jolted out of my reverie and confronted by her mad dash. With a flying tackle, I grabbed her ankle just as her nails scraped the doorknob. We wrestled abit, I avoided another punch and watched for that lethal Jack Rabbit Kick. Tussling on the floor with a nearly naked older woman while establishing my sexual dominance should have been an ego-inflating exercise. It never reached that stage. I was hard-pressed to keep from getting battered, but I finally regained a level of control and for the next few seconds we both laid together heaving and gasping, in a steaming coat of warm sweat. It was essential for me to re-establish my perceived dominance. And for my own health, to corral her crazed reactions. I actually mounted her semi-bare bottom and gripped her straggling mop of hair until her dangerous burst of energy subsided. I had not intended to inflict any serious pain, but I found that wrenching her head sharply back and nearly tearing the hair from her head, was the most deliberate way to draw her attention.

I was straddling her flailing, kicking body like a rodeo cowboy mounted on a bucking bull. Her strength gave way and at last she lay sprawled-out beneath me, giving me just a minute to visualize my precarious footing. Like a dog that chases a car, eventually he must figure-out what to do with it if he catches it. My cock was again emerging from a momentary slumber, and a naked, reluctant woman literally just beneath him, was like rocket fuel to my libido. I knew now that there would be sex. And I hoped that it would be good- one way or the other. Now I only needed to convince her.

"Geri," I said, speaking to her for the first time and using a nickname as if we were old friends. "This is going to happen. I'm going to fuck you. We both know it. And we both want it." I think I was trying to persuade myself as well as her because I didn't know whose resolve was greater and I wasn't assured of winning too many more bouts against her. I told her that I was going to help her up and take her to the bedroom. I hopefully managed to sound appreciably dominant so that she wouldn't test me again. I wanted to sound tough because I didn't want to hurt her, and I was actually backed into a corner, if this didn't work. A very dangerous bluff in a game of aggressive sexual conquest.

Then I saw her eyes flare in wonder and prepared for another physical go around. But it was something else just as threatening. "How do you know my name, and who the hell are you? She screamed. Thank heavens the stereo was playing. I quickly covered her mouth and held-on, anticipating another verbal and physical storm. And I tried to walk her to the bedroom. Again, the thrashing and swinging started-up and some muffled niceties were delivered in my direction. This was taking too long, and with each second, I feared the advantage may swing her way. I tried to scoop her and carry her, but here is where her size and slipperiness worked for her. But having already attacked and disrobed her, I couldn't easily retreat and simply apologize.

Desperately, I was compelled to regrip my hold on her hair, and with the other hand grasping the front of her mangled dress, I tugged and pulled her towards the bed. She shrieked as she felt her long brown locks being used as a handle and she was forced to scramble on her knees to follow me, or else have her dark mane yanked from her scalp. She held my arms with both hands to reduce the pain and minimize the chance of going bald. Her feet hurried to keep pace with my strides so as to lessen the strain. This gave me the needed leverage to herd her towards the bed. Just as we passed the doorway, her ragged garment shredded. But her long, tangled mop remained wrapped around my fist. She was screaming, pleading, and swearing all at once by the time we had reached the unmade bed.

Left in only blue panties, she was obliged to climb onto the bed as I pulled her up to the headboard. The pain and terror of the moment waned, but by then I had her "spooned" infront of me and was violently tearing away the last few strings of her clothing. The dress and undies had fought valiantly, but they were now nothing but useless rags. The last vestige of material was pulled from her dirty legs, leaving her naked, sweaty and crimson-hued from the frantic exertion.

Though she had been nearly naked from the minute I walked in, now looking at her own entirely nude anatomy as I held her snugly against my body, with my brazen cock rubbing against her soft flesh, she relented (slightly.) One of my arms acted to pin down her heaving chest while the other removed my own pants. I then wedged my hand between her warm thighs and began to slide my fingers along her moist pussy lips. For some reason she acted surprised and actually caught off-guard, that I would resort to a fumbling, amateurish exploration of her stripped physique. My top hand was cradling her tits while with the other, I teased back and forth across her warm, wet triangle.

The struggle or the fantasy, or maybe just the sheer physical friction of two naked people grinding against each other brought a warm, sticky moisture that coated my palm. And my wandering digits proceeded to paint this oily mixture along the tender, reddened labia while she writhed on the sheets. Her coarse, dark curls were glistening with dew and I noticed the big thighs spread slightly to ease my access. It didn't last long, but she briefly relaxed and her stuttering breath caught in her throat as I slowly applied pressure to her crotch.

This is where any resemblance to all the seduction-style pornography that I have ever seen or read, deviated sharply from reality. Her pussy was indeed wet and her body may have naturally been gearing-up for a sexual encounter, but at this time she had no intention of being my lover- fantasy or otherwise- and would not be a willing victim. With one hand she was prying my fingers from her crotch and trying to dig her fingernails into the back of my hand. Her other hand was attempting to lift my arm closer to her ravenous mouth, where I envisioned that the vampiric fangs were preparing to clamp down like the jaws of death.

I managed to cling to her and then to flip her over onto her stomach, simultaneously climbing on her back. For a brief second, temporarily defusing a volatile situation. A position that I earlier determined gave me the best leverage and kept me farthest away from her perilous defenses. At this point it was as if I was holding a wildcat by its ears!