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The following piece of fiction contains strong sexual
content and is meant to be read only by adults. If you
are not at least 18 years old, or if you are offended by
this type of material, please do not read any further.
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"Therapy"
by DG
It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon, the first real day of
summer after a long rainy spring, and the wide concrete path that hugged
the Chicago lakefront was packed with people enjoying the warm, sunny
weather. Joggers, walkers, bikers, and rollerbladers, all fighting for
position on the same crowded path, but everyone was in a good mood and
having fun, including me. I was one of the rollerbladers, and not a
very experienced one. After watching bladers shoot by me day after day
while I was jogging, as if mocking my tortoise-like pace, I had finally
gone ahead and bought a pair of the damn things, and now that I was
getting the hang of it I had to admit it was a lot more fun than
pounding the pavement.
This was actually only my second time on rollerblades, so I had
taken it easy at first, just gliding along making sure I could keep my
balance. But I'm pretty athletic, and in great shape, and it wasn't
long before I was weaving in and out of the pedestrian traffic, scaring
the hell out of people and making a nuisance of myself like an expert.
I managed to get in a good workout despite the congested conditions, and
now I was just gliding along taking in the scenery as I headed back
towards my car.
By scenery I mean babes, of course, and there were plenty of them
to look at. The two words that best describe the current trend in
workout fashions are "tight" and "skimpy," which is fine with me. Most
of the women were wearing lycra bra-tops and tight spandex shorts, and I
was thoroughly enjoying the view. I'm not averse to showing a little
skin myself, and I had noticed more than a few appreciative glances at
my own well-muscled torso. It had been a long, cold, heavily-clothed
winter, and I was looking forward to a hot summer. Last fall, shortly
after moving to a new apartment near lake Michigan, I had discovered
that this path along the lakefront was a great place to pick up.
Unfortunately, this discovery had come only about two weeks before the
snow had started to fly, and I had been waiting anxiously for the warm
weather to return ever since.
I had just come to the top of a small rise leading into a sharp
left turn, when I heard a commotion behind me. Then - Wham! Someone
slammed into me from behind, knocking me off balance. I couldn't turn
to follow the path, so I ended up doing a sort of tuck and roll off to
the side into a patch of gravel. As I fell, I heard the unmistakable
sound of a bicycle crashing to the ground, and when I sat up, somewhat
stunned but unhurt, a girl was sitting right next to me on the gravel
looking equally dazed.
"Nice riding," I said sarcastically. My heart was still pounding
with the sudden shock, and I wasn't feeling too charitable.
"I'm really sorry," she said. "Some guy on a bike cut me off and
I couldn't get out of the way. Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I think I am, actually." I took a closer look at her, and
liked what I saw. Early twenties, which made her a few years younger
than me, and a great little bod. She had long, dark hair pulled back in
a ponytail, and a sexy, heart-shaped face. Something about her seemed
vaguely exotic - maybe it was her smooth, evenly-tanned skin. Needless
to say, I was more than ready to forgive her.
"How about you?" I asked, in a friendlier tone of voice. "You
took sort of a nasty tumble, are you hurt?"
"I think I'm OK. My leg kind of hurts though." She straightened
her right leg out, and we both noticed the patch of raw skin on the side
of her thigh.
"Looks like you got some road rash there," I said. I found my
water bottle, which had gone flying into a hedge, and poured a little
water on the scrape. "You better let me clean this out right away so it
doesn't get infected."
I gently picked the dirt and gravel out of her leg, using the
opportunity to take a closer look at her. My first impression had been
correct - she was very hot - and I started thinking that this might have
been my lucky wipeout. Like I said, this is a great place to meet
people.
"I'm Dave, by the way."
She smiled at me, revealing even, white teeth. "I'm Jennifer -
it's nice to meet you, Dave. I'm really sorry I ran you over."
"That's OK, from what you said it wasn't even your fault." I
finished tending to her tan, shapely leg and stood up. "Do you want to
try to get up and see if you can walk?"
She took my hand and I pulled her to her feet, managing not to
fall over on my rollerblades, and she gingerly took a few steps. Her
ass, which was the only thing I hadn't checked out yet, was quite up to
expectations - nice and round, but not too big.
"Thanks... I think I'm going to be fine. Oh damn - my bike!" The
rim on the front wheel of her mountain bike had been dented when it hit
the cement curb, and several of the spokes were badly bent. She picked
up the bike and tried to roll it, but the front wheel wouldn't even
turn.
I took a closer look and saw that the front brakes had been
knocked out of alignment and were pressing on the rim. I managed to pry
the brake calipers back into alignment with my fingers, and the front
wheel turned easily. "There. Now you can walk it along, but you'll
have to replace the front wheel before you can ride it."
She didn't look too pleased with this news. "OK. It's kind of a
long way back to my apartment, though."
Perfect - and just when I was starting to wonder how I was going
to keep the conversation going. "That's no problem. My car is parked
just a little ways further - I can put your bike in the back and give
you a ride home," I said magnanimously.
"Um, OK," she said after a few seconds. Not the grateful thanks I
had expected; maybe she was shy.
We started along the path back to my car, she pushing her bike and
me sort of half-walking, half-rolling next to her, and we continued to
talk. I purposely set a slow pace so we would have time to get to know
each other. She seemed to be a little shy, which was unusual in such a
beautiful girl, but she was a good listener and I ended up doing most of
the talking. Right off the bat, we discovered that we lived only a few
blocks from each other in Lincoln Park, which seemed like a good omen.
By the time we reached the parking lot, I made sure she knew that
I had gone to top schools back East and that I had a great job with a
well-known brokerage firm in the city, and that I was single. I didn't
learn much about her, but she seemed interested in me and everything
seemed to be going pretty well. I figured my gleaming new four-wheel
drive truck (complete with leather seats) would clinch the deal, and
that I would have the chance to get to know her better over dinner.
"See, there's plenty of room in the back for your bike," I said,
popping open the back glass with the remote-entry key. She had stopped
a few feet away, and she had an odd, nervous look on her face.
"Listen, it's really nice of you to offer, Dave, but I don't want
to be any more trouble."
This was taking politeness a bit far, I thought. "It's no
trouble, really - it's not even out of my way. Besides, it would take
you an hour to walk from here." I moved to take her bike, but she
pulled it protectively towards her.
"No, really, I'll be OK - I'll call a taxi. It was nice meeting
you."
I couldn't believe it - she was actually going to turn down my
offer of a ride. I felt a surge of anger - what was I, an ax-murderer?
"OK, suit yourself," I said coldly, and got in my car. I saw my
cell phone sitting on the passenger seat, and for some reason I decided
to make a final gesture.
"Here, you can call a taxi from my cell phone. I don't think
there are any pay phones around here." She had already started to walk
away, and for a second I thought she was going to turn this offer down
too. But she finally turned around and came back.
"Thanks," she said quietly, taking the phone. She dug around in
the little carry bag behind her bike seat and pulled out a card, and
then she started to dial. After a few digits she stopped, and I figured
she didn't know how to use the cell phone.
"Hit the green power button first and then just..."
She was biting her lip, and tears were rolling down her face. I
had never seen anyone look so sad, and I felt my anger melt away.
"What's the matter, Jennifer, is your leg hurting?" Somehow I
knew that wasn't the problem, but I didn't know what else to say.
She took a deep breath and wiped her arm across her eyes. "I'm
really sorry...you are being so nice, and..." She started crying again,
and I waited patiently.
"I haven't told very many people, but you deserve an explanation,"
she said finally. Her voice was quavering, but she seemed to have
stopped the tears. "I was raped about two months ago, and I'm still
getting over it. It's hard for me to talk to people, to trust anyone."
"Oh God, Jennifer, I'm so sorry." I was secretly relieved that it
wasn't just that she didn't like me. "I'm glad you told me - now I
understand about the ride."
"I know how ridiculous it is to turn down your ride," she said,
still sniffling a bit. "That's what being raped does to you. I used to
be outgoing, and now I'm terrified of everything. You're actually the
first strange guy, I mean male stranger, that I've talked to since it
happened."
"Well, I'm flattered to hear that," I said stupidly. This was
very awkward for some reason. I wanted to ask her about the rape, but I
thought that might be too personal. "I really enjoyed talking to you -
I hope you don't give up on men completely."
This seemed to have been the right thing to say. She gave me a
beautiful smile that made my heart flutter, and said "Oh, I haven't - it
just will take a little time." She paused for a few seconds. "Listen
Dave, maybe I will take you up on the ride after all - is that OK?"
"You got it." I lowered the tailgate and lifted her bike into the
back, and then opened the passenger door for her. I figured my plans of
wining, dining, and sixty-nining her tonight were pretty much shot, but
it was still nice not to have been blown off completely.
Telling me her secret seemed to have taken a load off her mind,
and she was a lot more talkative in the car than she had been earlier.
By the time we got to her building I knew that she was a nurse, that she
was even newer to Chicago than I was, that she was half-Filipino, which
explained her slightly exotic looks, and, most importantly, that she was
single. She would have been perfect if it wasn't for the whole rape
thing; I wasn't too sanguine about my chances of sleeping with a girl
who was barely able to work up the courage to ride in a car with me.
Then again, she had loosened up considerably since the crying scene,
smiling at me and laughing at my lame jokes, and I figured it was still
worth a shot.
I unloaded her bike from the back, and since it wasn't an elevator
building I carried it up the three flights of stairs for her. She was
quiet on the way up, and when we reached her front door I could tell she
was nervous again. It would be an obvious courtesy for her to invite me
in, but since I had already come across as a caring, sensitive guy, I
decided to stick with that approach and let her off the hook.
"Listen, Jennifer," I said, giving her a sheepish smile. "I would
really like to see you again. My original plan was to try to get
invited into your apartment for a cold drink, and then to ask you out to
dinner at a nice restaurant. But considering the circumstances, I
suppose you wouldn't be comfortable with that right now."
I let that hang in the air, hoping to be contradicted. "Actually,
my therapy group has been encouraging me to start dating again," she
said, blushing a little and looking down.
"Therapy group?"
"It's an informal support group for rape victims. The goal is to
overcome our fear of men so we can get back into the social scene, and
there is sort of a 10-step program we are supposed to follow. I only
have a few more steps left before I 'graduate,' but I don't know if I'm
ready."
"Well, that sounds terrific," I said. "I'm sure you're ready -
you've made a lot of progress today already, haven't you?"
"You have been so nice to me," she said with a smile. "It's only
fair to warn you that you might not enjoy a date with someone who is
going through this program."
There was that modesty again; it was as if she didn't even know
how hot she was. Hell, it would be a boost to my ego to be seen with
her in public, even if all I got out of it was a peck on the cheek at
the end of the night.
"OK, I'll consider myself forewarned," I said, smiling back at
her. "But I think I'll take that chance. What do you say we go out for
drinks a little later? I know a nice place not far from here - kind of
an Irish pub with a nice atmosphere; they have food too."
She gave me a long, searching look, and then nodded. "OK, Dave -
that sounds great."
"Great! I'll pick you up here at six then."
Things had turned out pretty well, and I had a spring in my step
as I went back down the stairs to my car. I figured maybe tonight was
the night Jennifer would get over her fear of men. I would get a few
drinks into her, continue to play the part of the sensitive male, and
then make my move. If I could get her back to my place I would be in
good shape - my apartment was a carefully designed babe lair.
It was about 2 hours later when I buzzed her apartment. I had
showered and shaved, and dressed in expensive casual clothes, including
a jacket. Most guys make the mistake of underdressing for a date, but
women love to get dressed up and they appreciate it if the guy does too.
Believe me, if you show up in jeans and she has on a party dress, you
aren't getting anywhere that night.
"Be down in a second," she said through the intercom. It was
actually a good five minutes, but it was worth the wait. I had already
known she was hot, but now she looked absolutely stunning. She was
wearing a black skirt which was short, but not excessively short, and
except for the bandage above her knee her legs were perfect. A low-cut
white top set off her smooth, tan complexion and showed just a hint of
cleavage. She wore her thick, dark hair loose, and it cascaded down
past her shoulders, framing her face with gentle waves.
"Sorry to keep you waiting.." I could tell from her voice that
she was nervous again, but that was normal on a first date, of course.
The secret to first dates is to keep talking, to avoid those awkward
silences at all costs, even if you can't think of anything witty or deep
to say.
"You look great, Jennifer. I really love your hair." One of my
old college buddies swore that the best thing you can do on a date
(except maybe for licking your eyebrows) is to compliment her hair.
Maybe it was coincidental, but he got laid a lot.
"Thanks! You look nice too."
The recent improvement in the weather and the scrape on her leg -
a little sore, but not too bad - carried the conversation until we got
to Flanagan's Tavern, an upscale yuppie hangout that was my home away
from home. It was crowded already, but I had called Kurt, the owner and
a good buddy of mine, and I knew we would get a nice, quiet table and
good service.
"Hey Dave, good to see you." Kurt was behind the bar, mixing up a
pitcher of something pink. "How are those rollerblades working out?"
"So far, so good," I said, giving him a wink. "This is Jennifer,
by the way. Jennifer, this is Kurt, the assistant bartender."
"Thanks a lot, pal" he said, giving me a mock-dirty look. "I'm
the owner of this here establishment," he said, addressing Jennifer.
"If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know." At least
three other people were trying to get Kurt's attention to order drinks,
but he was looking right into Jennifer's eyes and she was smiling back
at him, obviously enjoying the attention. Kurt was a dashing fellow
with a goatee and an earring, and we had a friendly rivalry going when
it came to chasing women.
"How about a table where we can have a little privacy," I said
meaningfully.
Kurt laughed. "Go ahead and grab that table over there," he said,
indicating a cozy booth towards the back. "I'll send Shelly right
over."
I took Jennifer's hand and we threaded our way through the crowd
around the bar, receiving a few sour looks from people who were no doubt
waiting for a table to open up.
"I guess you must be a regular here," she said as we slid into the
leather-seated booth across from each other. "It's a nice place."
"Yep, Kurt and I go way back. I helped him arrange the financing
to buy this place a few years back." A slight exaggeration, but I had
given him some advice.
Our waitress appeared. "Hi, what can I get you? Oh, Hi Dave."
"Hi Shelly, how's it going?" Shelly was a good looking Irish lass
with blond hair and an impressive set of tits, just the right type of
gal for an Irish tavern. I had nailed her a couple of times, taking her
back to my place after closing time for a quickie, and that could have
made this awkward, but fortunately she wasn't the possessive type.
Jennifer and I both ordered a pint of Harps, and Shelly brought
them right away. I gratefully downed about half my beer in one gulp,
and when I came up for air I saw that she had done the same.
"I guess we were thirsty," she said, her teeth flashing white in
the dim light as she smiled at me. I was glad to see that she looked
relaxed and comfortable
"I know I was," I said. "I must have rollerbladed for two hours
this afternoon."
The conversation flowed freely as we talked about our workout
schedules, our jobs, our favorite restaurants - standard, safe topics.
We ordered some dinner and another round of beers, and after a little
more pleasant small talk I decided to try to move the conversation to a
more personal level.
"So is this really your first date since...in two months?"
"Since I was raped. It's OK to say it. Yes, it's my first real
date with someone new. I haven't had any problem hanging out with guys
who were already my friends, the tough thing is being with someone I
didn't know from before."
"That makes sense," I said, and then I observed "You don't seem to
be uncomfortable right now."
"No, I'm not - in fact, I'm having a very good time," she said,
looking into my eyes, and I felt a surge of desire for her. Damn, she
was hot. "I don't have any problem meeting someone in a bar and talking
to them, like we're doing now," she explained. "It's being alone with a
man that's the problem." She looked down, turning her beer glass in her
hands, and then she continued in a quieter voice, "I guess what I mean
to say is that I don't know if I'm ever going to be ready to have sex
again."
I had been hoping that sex would come up in the conversation, but
this wasn't the exactly the most promising context. Then again, if she
really had no intention of having sex with me she wouldn't have brought
it up.
"I'm sure you will," I said. "I hope so, anyway. It would be a
terrible loss for mankind if you never had sex again." She smiled
appreciatively at this, but didn't reply. I took a sip of beer to give
myself time to think; this was obviously a critical moment. I don't
know if it was the two beers I had polished off in the last hour or the
way she was looking at me, but I decided to try a bold approach.
"I know sex isn't something people usually talk about after
knowing each other for a couple of hours, but maybe it should be," I
said. "I don't see why it has to be such a forbidden topic."
"People do it before they talk about it - it seems a little
backwards," she agreed. She didn't seem to mind the subject, in fact,
she seemed eager to continue, and I felt my cock give a little twitch.
"What is it exactly that you are afraid of - being raped again?
Or are you afraid if you had sex it would remind you of being raped and
you wouldn't enjoy it?"
She thought about it for a few seconds. "No, it's more like a
fear of losing control. Rape is the ultimate loss of control over your
own body, and after it happens it's hard to give up that control again.
The thought of putting myself in a position where a man has control over
my body is what scares me."
I was a little confused at this point, and I wasn't sure what to
say. The truth is, I was getting mixed signals. Her body language, the
way she was looking at me, was giving me the impression that she wanted
me, but from what she was saying she still had serious hangups over sex.
I guess I wasn't paying close enough attention.
"So what would help you get over that fear?" I asked. I was
bracing myself for something depressing like 'getting to know a guy
really well so I can trust him.' I'm not really the patient type.
"Well, in my therapy program they tell us that it's unhealthy to
avoid sex after being raped. We're encouraged to return to our, uh,
normal activities as soon as possible. They have sort of an unusual
approach to the whole issue of getting over the fear, though."
Maybe if I hadn't been so elated about the first part of what she
said I would have noticed the stress she put on the phrase 'unusual
approach.' As it was, I was unprepared for the bizarre and
unpredictable turn the conversation took.
"Dave, have you ever tried bondage?" She was blushing furiously
and looking down at the table.
"Bondage...?" Like I said, I was unprepared. Shocked was more
like it.
"It's part of the therapy program," she explained, still blushing.
"We're supposed to arrange for the guy to be tied up the first time we
have sex. That way we're in control of what goes on, and it will
empower us to get over our negative feelings about sex."
My mind was racing. The whole situation had undergone an
unsettling shift, and what had been a relaxed, flirtatious atmosphere
just a few moments ago now seemed tinged with tension and danger.
"I'm sorry if I shocked you," she said, sounding embarrassed.
"Isn't that the craziest thing you ever heard? I don't know if I could
do something kinky like that, therapeutic or not.."
"No, it isn't crazy, it actually sort of makes sense. It did
catch me a little off guard, though," I said with a laugh. To put it
mildly. "To answer your question, I have tried bondage in the past," I
lied.
She looked up at me with surprised interest. "Really? What sort
of bondage? I mean, if you don't mind talking about it."
I didn't mind at all, although it would require making something
up. Fortunately, a friend of mine had once told me about his adventures
in this area, so I wasn't at a complete loss. "Well, it was a few years
ago, with my girlfriend at the time. She brought it up one day as
something she had always wanted to try, and I thought it sounded
interesting. We ended up doing it quite a lot, actually - it's kind of
addictive."
At that moment Shelly came back with our food, and we both sat
back with startled, guilty looks on our faces when she set the first
plate down. Shelly gave me a knowing, amused looked, and said "Sorry to
bother you - enjoy your food."
We ate for a few minutes in silence, and then Jennifer leaned
forward across the small booth and said "I was really looking forward to
hearing more about what you and your ex-girlfriend did." Her low-cut
blouse had fallen open a bit, and I could see the smooth, tan curves of
her cleavage and the edge of her lacy, white bra cups.
It has always been my opinion that women know exactly how much
they are revealing in situations like this, and my cock twitched again
and began to grow. I had been able to gather my thoughts while we were
eating, and I now saw clearly how much potential this situation had. If
I played my cards right, I would be fucking her by the end of the night.
And the first card I had to play was the story I had started to tell.
"OK, like I was saying, she brought it up one night after we had
been drinking a bit. It didn't really surprise me because she was
always into experimenting, trying new things. We talked about it for a
while, and it turned out that she was into the idea of being in complete
control of a guy, sort of like what your therapy group told you, I
guess. I was kind of turned on by the idea too, and I told her I would
do it as long as I got to do the same thing to her. Fair's fair,
right?" I paused for a sip of beer. I was warming to the story, and
Jennifer was hanging on my every word.
"We agreed that we would each get to tie the other one up on a
different night. I let her tie me up first, since it was her idea. We
didn't have any handcuffs or anything, so we just used regular rope. It
took some experimenting, getting the knots right and all that, but the
whole process of getting me tied up was kind of a turn on in itself.
Finally, I was bound hand and foot on the bed, naked and helpless. It
was quite a feeling, I must say."
I took another sip of beer, and she asked me "Had you set some
ground rules for what you could do to the other person?"
"No, we talked about that but we decided we trusted each other not
to do anything too outrageous. So anyway, there I was, competely at her
mercy, and she spent the next two hours teasing me and enjoying herself
at my expense. Do you want me to, uh, go into the details?"
She licked her lips and nodded. "If you don't mind. I'm really
interested in hearing what happened - what do you mean by teasing?" I
felt her foot brush against my leg under the table, as if by accident.
Then the foot returned and settled on my ankle, and I realized she had
slipped off her shoe. My cock, which had already been giving warning
signs, went to full alert, and I had to surreptitiously adjust my pants.
"OK - just stop me if I get too explicit or if you feel
uncomfortable," I said gallantly. That seemed unlikely, judging from
the way she was stroking my ankle with her toes. "Well, for starters
she had all her clothes on, which made me feel a little odd. But
everything started out great - she went ahead and started sucking my...
uh, cock." I glanced at her, and she just nodded. "It was great -
really different, somehow, being tied up while she was doing that to
me. But then, just when I was really getting into it, she stopped.
That's where the teasing came in. She said if I wanted her to keep
going I had to beg for it. She made me tell her how great it felt, how
good she was sucking cock and stuff like that, and I had to sound like I
really meant it. Finally, she started sucking my cock again, but she
stopped again as soon as I was close. That's the way it went for the
rest of the night - I would have to keep doing things for her in order
to get her to give me a little more head."
"For instance, she did a striptease and I had to keep telling her
how hot she was and how badly I wanted to see her naked, and all that.
Then after that I had to eat her pussy until she came. I would go down
on her for like ten minutes straight, giving her a great orgasm, and
then she would give me head for like thirty seconds, just enough to get
my motor running. And then I would have to do her all over again. I
must say, it felt great when she finally sucked me all the way off, but
I was still kind of pissed at her for making me say all those things and
for getting me so frustrated."
I was watching her carefully while I was talking, and I could see
that she was getting almost as turned on as I was. I almost forgot that
I had made the whole thing up - I could visualize it just as if it had
really happened.
"So did you stay mad at her?" she asked.
"Oh no," I said, smiling at her. "It was my turn to tie her up
the next night, and I did the same thing to her."
She laughed. "I don't blame you. I'm sure she expected it, after
doing it to you first."
"Right. I don't think the sexual frustration thing works as well
on women as it does on men, but it was still fun hearing her beg."
"Oh, I don't know. Women can get awfully frustrated when they
don't have sex, believe me."
This was obviously more than just a general observation, and she
looked a little embarrassed.
"So, do you think that what your therapy group told you might
work?" I asked casually. Or at least I tried to sound casual.
"Well, now that I think about it I guess it might be worth a try.
But where am I going to find a guy who would let me tie him up?" Her
foot was stroking my calf now, and the sexual tension was almost
unbearable.
"You already have," I said softly. "Let's get out of here."
"OK," she said. "Let's go back to my place."
I normally try to get women back to my apartment, but in this
situation Jennifer would obviously be more comfortable in her own place.
I was much too turned on to think clearly anyway. As we walked back
through the bar area I put my arm around her waist, and Kurt gave me a
discreet thumbs-up as we went by. I caught a glimpse of us in the big
mirror behind the bar as we were leaving - I looked like the cat that
swallowed the canary, a silly grin plastered on my face, while Jennifer
looked calm and relaxed, like she was relieved to have finally made a
tough decision.
We drove the short distance back to her place and I parked behind
her building. It was a beautiful night, and as we walked towards the
entrance we stopped to look at the stars.
"You look beautiful," I said. She smiled and looked up at me, and
I put my hand on the side of her neck and leaned down to kiss her. She
tilted her head up to meet mine, and we held the kiss for several
seconds. I slid my hands down to her ass and pulled her up against me,
and she responded eagerly, pushing her hips against my groin. I could
tell that she was eager to have sex, and I figured we would end up
skipping the bondage thing and just get right down to it.
"Let's go inside," she said, after we finally broke the kiss.
She put on some soft music and kept the lights dim, and it wasn't
long before we were kissing again, sitting next to each other on her
couch. After a decent interval, I slid my hand up her side and cupped
her breast through her tight knit top. She didn't object, and as I
continued to stroke her breast I could feel her nipple harden. She
shifted a little to give me better access, and I kissed my way down her
neck to the top of her breast. She moaned appreciatively, and then she
pushed me away for a second and undid her bra. I slid my hand
underneath her top this time, and we both gasped a little when my hand
closed around her bare breast. As I massaged her breast and rolled her
nipple between my fingers it was obvious that she was enjoying herself.
When I leaned forward to kiss her again she slipped her warm pink tongue
into my mouth, and we did some heavy tongue-wrestling for a few minutes.
All this squirming around on the couch had caused her skirt to
hike up to near the top of her smooth, tan thighs, and I decided that it
was time to make my move. I worked my hand out of her top and started
sliding it up the inside of her thigh. I was close enough to feel the
warmth radiating from her crotch when she closed her legs together and
said "Remember what we talked about, Dave."
Damn. The truth is, I was a little apprehensive about being tied
up by someone I had only known for a few hours. "You still want to do
that bondage thing?" I asked, trying to sound a little hurt.
"Come on - it will be fun. I promise not to tease you like your
old girlfriend did." She put mouth close to my ear and whispered "I
want to have sex with you so bad...but we have to do it this way, OK?"
Naturally I couldn't resist a plea like that. We went into her
bedroom, and I saw with a twinge of regret that she had a sturdy four-
poster bed. It looked like I was really going to have to go through
with this.
I threw myself on the bed and spread out my arms and legs. "OK,
I'm all yours."
She giggled. "But you have to take your clothes off first. Or do
you want me to do it for you?" She pulled off my shoes and socks and
dropped them on the floor, and then she sat on the bed next to me and
began unbuttoning my shirt. She had taken her bra off at some point,
and I could see her nipples clearly through her white top.
"What about you?" I asked. "When do you take your clothes off?"
"As soon as you're all tied up - I promise."
I sat up and took my shirt off, and she opened a drawer and took
out two leather wrist cuffs. Each one had a length of nylon cord
attached to it.
"You're really prepared for this," I said wonderingly.
She put one of the straps around my right wrist and buckled it
tight. "Someone in the therapy group let me borrow these. At the time
I didn't really think I would use them."
After both wrist straps were on, she had me lie back with my arms
over my head. Before I knew it, she had tied the nylon cords to the
bedposts, pulling them taught so that my arms were completely
immobilized. She put her face over mine and gave me a tender kiss, her
hair falling forward and tickling my cheek.
"Is that OK - it's not hurting you, is it?"
I tested the restraints. "No, it just feels kinda strange. I
haven't done this for a while." Never was more like it.
"Well maybe this will make you feel better." She sat up and
slowly peeled her top off over her head. As I stared at her gorgeous
breasts, I felt my cock stir to life again.
"Beautiful. I just wish I could touch them."
She smiled and then leaned over me until her nipples just touched
my bare chest, and then she trailed them upwards, over my own nipples
and towards my mouth. Finally I was able to take one of her dangling
globes into my mouth, and she let me suckle it for a few seconds before
she sat up again.
"Time to get your pants off." She unbuckled and unzipped, and as
I lifted my hips up to help her she slid my slacks down and off and then
hung them neatly on the back of a chair. She looked incredibly sexy
wearing nothing but her black skirt, and my cock was straining awkwardly
inside my boxer shorts, making a big sideways bulge.
"Ooohh, what have we here?" She ran her fingertip along the
taught fabric, making my cock twitch. "Looks like it's getting a little
cramped for space in there." She reached into the front flap of the
boxers and gently worked my cock out. The first time a girl touches
your cock is always an electric feeling, and I could feel the muscles in
my stomach twitching as she gripped it in her fist and moved it around
in slow circles.
"That feels good," I groaned.
"It's nice to finally have a cock in my hand again," she said.
She leaned down and gave it a quick kiss, darting her tongue along the
underside of the head, and then she sat up and said "Time to get these
shorts out of the way."
She worked the boxers off, leaving me completely naked, and then
she took a pair of ankle restraints out of the drawer. They looked just
like the wrist restraints I was already wearing, including the lengths
of nylon cord.
"Let me get these on and then we can have some fun," she said,
strapping one around my left ankle. She secured my legs in the same way
as my arms, tying the nylon cord to the bedposts. She didn't pull them
very tight; I could still bend my knees a little, but I couldn't close
my legs all the way, which left me feeling vulnerable. Which was the
whole idea, I guess.
"There, that should do it. Feeling all right?"
"I guess it would be silly to deny it," I said, looking down at my
firm erection.
"Good," she said with a giggle. "I guess it's my turn to get
naked." She unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor, revealing
black silk panties. She turned around so she had her back to me, and
then she slowly pulled the panties down over the swell of her hips until
they too fell to the floor. No tan lines for this gal, the smooth
honey-brown color of her legs continued upwards past the round contours
of her ass, past her narrow waist and up her back where it met her thick
dark hair.
"Beautiful," I said as she turned around.
"You're kind of cute yourself," she said. "Now how about a nice
massage." She took a bottle of baby oil from the top of the dresser and
sat back on the bed next to me, and then she squirted a line of oil
along my chest and stomach. The oil tickled as it started to trickle
into the ridges and contours of my upper body, and I reflexively tried
to reach down, only to be reminded of my position as both my hands were
arrested with simultaneous jerks.
"Just relax, Dave. I'll rub it in."
She got up on her knees and started smoothing the oil around with
the palms of her hands, rubbing it into my skin. In this position I
could clearly see her pussy: she had a neatly-trimmed patch of jet-black
pubic hair above, but the area around the pink folds was completely
shaved, or maybe naturally hairless. It was a beautiful sight, framed
by her smooth tan legs, and my erection was so strong now that it was
almost painful. Jennifer was kneading my chest firmly with circular
motions of her hands, slowly working her way downwards. It felt great,
but it wasn't where I needed to be stroked right now.
"Hey, you said no teasing," I said. My voice was a little hoarse
from arousal.
"I know, I know." She took the bottle of oil again and squirted a
generous amount directly onto my cock and balls. I gasped with pleasure
as she wrapped her hand around my shaft and gave me a few quick,
slippery pumps.
"Oh God, that feels good," I moaned.
She worked the oil into my balls with one hand while slowly
pumping me with her other hand, and I honestly can't remember anything
ever feeling better. Then I felt her fingers reaching down lower,
probing between my buttocks, and then my whole body jerked convulsively
when she touched my asshole.
She giggled. "Looks like I found the magic spot. Lets get some
more oil down there." Another cool squirt from the bottle and I felt
oil trickling down past my balls and into my crack. The truth is, I
wasn't too sure about her touching my ass, it was something I had never
really been into, but what she was doing to my cock with her other hand
felt so good that I couldn't bring myself to complain.
Her fingers returned to my ass, and this time everything was a lot
more slippery. She rubbed around my asshole with her fingertip while
pumping my cock with a maddeningly slow and steady pace, and I must say
it felt surprisingly good, although I still had some misgivings. Then
she gave my cock a firm squeeze and three or four fast strokes in a row.
I arched my back and groaned with pleasure, but at the same time I felt
a sudden pressure followed by a sharp mixture of pleasure and pain, and
when she returned to her previous pace I realized she had inserted an
oily finger all the way into my ass.
She smiled at me and said "How does that feel?"
This was a little too much, and I was about to tell her that I
just wasn't into this sort of thing when she twisted her finger and
exerted a little pressure upwards, sending a jolt of pleasure through me
that almost made me blow my wad.
"Aaaaaaaghhh. It feels good, I guess."
"You guess? From the sounds you're making, I think you must be
pretty sure." She twisted her finger back and forth a few times, making
me groan with pleasure.
"OK, it feels great."
"Good." She gave me a more serious look. "Because it's time to
get on with it."
"Get on with what?"
"The therapy," she said. She slid her finger out of my ass and
went over to the dresser and took something out of the bottom drawer.
When she turned around I saw it was a thick black dildo, and I felt a
sudden queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. The whole situation had
seemed too good to be true, and I had a hunch that this was the catch.
"If you thought my finger felt good, you're going to love this."
She ran the tip of the heavy rubber dildo along the side of my ribcage,
making me break out in goosebumps. She still had a playful smile on her
face, but there was something more to it now, a hint of seriousness
underneath the banter, and for the first time I fully understood how
helpless a position I was in.
"Come on, Jennifer, stop joking around. I don't like having
things up my ass, and even if I did that thing's way too big." Fear had
given my voice an unpleasant, whiny edge, and for good reason. The
dildo was about twice as thick as a normal cock, and I could only
imagine what kind of damage it would do to my rectum.
"Sorry Dave, but you don't have any choice. Just relax and enjoy
it." She squirted baby oil onto the dildo and rubbed it in, turning it
a shiny jet-black. A wave of panic started rising in my chest - what
the hell had I been thinking, letting myself be tied up someone I barely
knew. It wasn't just the dildo: the fact that she would do something to
me against my will meant that I was in serious danger. For all I knew,
she might be planning to cut my balls off when she was finished reaming
me.
I forced the panic out of my mind and tried to think clearly. The
situation wasn't really that bad, was it? I was a strong guy, I could
probably break out of the restraints if I really had to, or at least
struggle so much that she couldn't have her way with me. And we were in
an apartment building, I could always yell for help. I was pretty sure
that if I started really making a ruckus she would have to untie me, and
I relaxed just a little.
While these thoughts were flashing through my mind Jennifer had
climbed onto the foot of the bed between my legs, the dildo gleaming
menacingly in her right hand. This was obviously the time to start
yelling and struggling, but all I did was clench my buttocks together
and try to close my legs as much as the restraints would allow. She
rubbed the tip of the dildo around my balls and up and down my now-
flaccid cock, and then slowly slid it down between my buttocks.
I jerked my hips a few inches back and said "Why are you doing
this? How is shoving a dildo up my ass going to help you get over being
raped?" I tried to keep my voice calm and reasonable; but it was a
losing battle.
She didn't answer for a few seconds. "Do you want to hear what
happened to me?" she asked finally.
"Um, yeah - sure. If you wouldn't mind." Anything to keep her
talking instead of wielding the dildo, which she was absently rubbing up
and down the inside of my thigh at the moment.
"No, I don't mind. It's good to talk about it." She arranged
herself into a more comfortable position and began. "I met this guy in
a bar, and we hit it off pretty well, so at the end of the night I gave
him my phone number. He didn't call for weeks, and when he did I barely
remembered him. But he sounded nice on the phone, so I agreed to go out
with him. We went to a movie and then out for a few drinks, and then I
agreed to go back to his place. I figured we might fool around a
little, but that's it."
She noticed that my cock had almost completely deflated. "Aww,
what happened to Mr. Happy?" She took it her hand and started squeezing
and stroking it again, and despite my fear I felt it beginning to
respond.
"There we go, he's coming back to life. So anyway, we went to his
apartment, and before long we started fooling around. We kissed for a
while, and I let him touch my breasts - standard first date stuff. But
then he started getting really pushy, groping me all over. I kept
pushing his hands away, but he wouldn't take a hint." She continued to
pump my cock with her right hand while she talked, and before long I was
fully hard again.
After a short pause, she continued. "He kept telling me that he
knew I really wanted to have sex, and that I should stop denying it.
Obviously I should have left right then, but for some reason I was
afraid to make a scene. That's something I felt guilty about later: I
could have prevented the whole thing if I hadn't had a ridiculous desire
not to be rude. By sticking around, I guess I gave him the idea I
wanted it." She was pumping my cock sort of at random now, occasionally
stopping completely for a few seconds before resuming. I couldn't help
thrusting my hips upward to try to get her to pick up the pace, but she
didn't seem to be paying any attention. From the somber, faraway look
on her face, she was clearly reliving the story as she was telling it.
"Eventually he forced his hand between my legs and slid it up
under my skirt to my crotch. I tried to get away, but he just pushed me
back on the couch and started rubbing me through my panties. I
struggled a little and told him to stop, but he just told me to relax
and enjoy it." She snorted derisively. "What a cliche of male
arrogance right? He's forcing himself on me against my will, and
telling me to enjoy it."
She looked down thoughtfully at my rock-solid erection in her fist
as she moved it around in slow circles. "But that's exactly what
happened. After a few minutes of rubbing I suddenly realized that it
was feeling good, and pretty soon my panties were all wet. So there I
was, telling him to stop, telling him I would scream, but I wasn't doing
anything but a little bit of token struggling and he knew that I was
aroused."
While she was talking I felt something else touching my cock, and
I looked down and saw that she was holding the dildo in her left hand
and rubbing it back and forth along the base of my erection. She
quickened the pace of her stroking, and I felt the semen starting to
work its way up the shaft of my cock as my orgasm approached. Just when
I thought she was going to jerk me off all the way, I suddenly felt the
dildo pressing right on my anus, opening it up just a little. I grunted
and twisted my hips, and she took the dildo away, but at the same time she
let go of my cock, causing the semen to retreat painfully back down the
shaft. I was about to beg her to not leave me hanging, but she started
talking again and I was afraid to interrupt.
"After a while he moved my panties out of the way and started
rubbing my pussy directly," she continued. "My body was really
responding, and I knew it was now or never as far as screaming and
struggling went. Then I noticed that he had taken his cock out of his
pants and he was playing with it with his other hand, and I told myself
he wasn't going to stop now no matter what. But the truth is, I could
have broken away from him at that point if I wanted to, and we both knew
it - he was too busy playing with himself to hold me down. It was too
late though - he had his fingers inside me, and it was like my own body
was betraying me."
She was stroking me vigorously again, and I was quickly closing in
on my orgasm when she slowed the pace down drastically, frustrating me a
second time. I knew that each time she stopped pumping my cock it would
be more painful and frustrating, and when I felt the dildo pressing
against my ass I gritted my teeth and spread my legs instead of moving
my hips away. The pressure increased, and my anus started opening to
admit the tip of the dildo, while at the same time she started stroking
me harder again. At that point the stimulation on my asshole actually
felt good, but I knew that when the whole grotesque object forced its
way inside me there would be a painful tearing of my flesh. I also knew
that if I closed my legs or moved my hips away she would stop stroking
me immediately, and humiliating as it was to tacitly allow her to
violate me with the dildo, I could no longer deny the powerful craving
for sexual release.
She gave me an ironic smile and continued her story. "So he keeps
fingering my pussy, and after a while I stop pretending to struggle and
open up my legs to make it easier for him. That when he stops and says
to me 'Listen Jennifer, I'm no rapist. I'm not going to go any farther
unless you want me to.' So my think to myself, great - he's not going
rape me. But then I rationalize to myself that if I say no he might
rape me anyway, so what I ended up saying was 'Yeah, go ahead."
She was working my cock around in slow circles, her hand firmly
gripped around my shaft, and the tip of dildo was still pressed into my
ass. It felt good, but without any stimulation on the head of my cock
it wasn't enough to get me over the edge, and I was trapped in a haze of
sexual frustration. The situation couldn't have been more clear: one
thrust with her left hand and the full thickness of the dildo would bury
itself in my ass; a few firm strokes on the head of my cock with her
right hand and I would be transported into the blessed relief of a
powerful orgasm. All I had to do was say the word.
I swallowed the lump of tension in my throat and said "OK, I
understand the point - please, just get it over with."
She gave me a long look, but she didn't say anything or change
what she was doing. Finally, she continued talking as if she hadn't
heard me. "As soon as I said to go ahead, he dropped his pants and
underwear and then pulled off my panties. I was just lying back on the
couch, feeling numb. He rolled on top of me and stuck it in, and then
he came about ten seconds later. I got up off the couch, put my panties
back on, and left, without either one of us saying another word."
After a few seconds of silence, she pulled the dildo away and
tossed it on the floor with a look of faint disgust. Then she gave me
one of her brilliant, heart-warming smiles and said "I hope you can fuck
me for more than ten seconds, Dave."
Relief flooded through my body as she straddled me and then
lowered herself onto my aching cock. Her pussy was an amazingly warm,
tight, slippery slice of heaven, and I was afraid that ten seconds was
optimistic. But with her weight on my hips and my limbs spread out I
couldn't thrust up into her, and she was able to grind herself to an
orgasm before my overstressed balls finally spasmed and I spurted my
long-overdue load into her.
After a few seconds of recovery, she scootched forward along my
chest and then reached forward to unbuckle the wrist straps. This
caused her round, tan breasts to dangle enticingly in my face, and I
licked and nuzzled them while she worked on the buckles, making her
giggle. Finally my hands were free and I was able to wrap them around
her warm, naked body.
"I'm sorry," she murmured in my ear. "I hope this wasn't too
unpleasant."
"You scared the hell out of me," I said. "I should be pissed, but
I'm just glad you finally decided not to go through with it."
"Well, I think it really helped me anyway," she said, a hint of
amusement in her voice. "So do you forgive me?"
"Yeah, I forgive you," I said, gently stroking the smooth curves
of her ass.
"Good. Because you get to tie me up next time."
The End, "Therapy"
© 1997 by DG. All rights reserved.
Author's notes
1) As always, I'd enjoy hearing what you thought of the
story - my email is dionysian1@hotmail.com.
2) Thanks to Baird Allen, I have a nice web page with all my
stories on it. Please drop by and check it out some time:
http://baird.pair.com/dg.htm