She's had this dream before, the sense of being trapped, a weight holding her down, her throat tight, unable to breathe. Her heart is pounding, and she desperately wants to be free. She fights, unable to move.
When she wakes, she still can't move. Her eyes are blindfolded, mouth gagged, her body spreadeagled, hands pulled over her head, legs wide. Her arms and legs are numb, and she twists awkwardly, trying to regain feeling. That's when she feels a hand on her bare leg.
She wants to scream, but the gag in her mouth, the dryness in her throat, only allows her a slight cough. The hand slides up her calf toward her knee, and she struggles, fearing what might be next. But the hand stops at her knee, and then she feels the bed give slightly, and someone brushes her hair from her forehead.
"It's going to be ok," a man's voice whispers in her ear. His breath on her ear sends shivers through her, despite herself. The man continues to stroke her hair, and then she feels his tongue in her ear. She shivers more, a wave of feeling spreading down her body, and, despite her fear, despite being trapped, she feels herself growing wet, and she arches upward.
"Yes," he breathes in her ear. "That's it."
She shakes her head, bumping against his head, and he curses.
His voice is harsher now. "This can be pleasant, or not. It's up to you."
She tries to moan and gags, her stomach churning.
"Would you like me to remove your gag?" he asks.
She feels his hands lifting her head from the bed, and then the gag is gone. She takes a shuddering breath and tries to shout, but all she can manage is a cough.
He laughs. "No one can hear you." His hand is under her head again, and she feels a cup pressed to her lips. Water dribbles into her mouth and down her chin. She coughs again.
Gently, he lowers her head back to the bed. Then she feels his hand stroking her neck, down between her breasts, down her belly, then slowly down until she is certain he can tell how wet she is, how despite her fear, despite everything, she wants his hand between her legs, pressing against her.
He laughs again as if he knows what she is thinking. Then she feels him get up from the bed. His step is soft, but she hears a quiet clatter, and then she feels his hand lifting her dress. Then her dress is parting, the sound of what must be a knife in his hand tearing at the cloth, and her fear is stronger now than her betraying lust.
Her skirt parts. Now he is cutting her blouse, traveling up toward her neck. Then she feels the cold metal against her skin as he cuts through her bra.
"Beautiful," he says.
His hands gently fold her ruined clothes away from her body, and then his hand slips under the elastic of her panties, and she feels the knife sliding underneath until, with one quick stroke, he slices through her panties.
"Beautiful," he says again.
She hears him walking away, the clatter of the knife as he drops it nearby, and then his soft approach. And then he is kissing her breasts. Her nipples harden, and he groans. "Yes, that's it."
Despite herself, she presses up into his mouth. Then his mouth moves down the line of her belly, brushing through the thick triangle of hair between her legs, and then he is kissing her clit, then sucking on it, first gently, and then harder, and then his tongue slides up and down the lips of her pussy, and she arches against him, into him. "Yes," she says.
He pulls away. "No," she moans. She can hear him, but she can't tell what he is doing. Then the bed sinks between her legs, and suddenly, he is entering her, and he feels so large, her wet pussy filled with his hot cock, and she realizes that he has taken the time to lubricate it, so that it slips easily in and out of her, and then his mouth is on hers, and she kisses him. She no longer cares why she is here, or what will happen to her, or whether this will be her last moments. All she cares about is his hot cock inside her, his hungry mouth on hers, her rising orgasm, the "Yes" screaming out of her.