Hotel Room Rendezvous

I trembled as I waited for him, standing, then sitting, then standing again in the hotel room I had booked just for the occasion.  I had spoken to him just twice, both times exploring what I wanted and what he was willing to give, and to take.  "Red means stop," I muttered to myself, remembering his words, my safe words, "Yellow slow down, green full speed ahead."  At thirty five, married twenty of them, this was new to me, new and exciting and frightening, so much so that I almost wished that he wouldn't show up.

A knock at the door made me start, and I took a deep breath and opened the door.  There he was, all six feet two inches of him, lean and strong and not so much handsome as good looking, a bag over his shoulder making him look somehow rakish.  I stepped back as he walked into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.  He glanced around before fixing his eyes on me.  I quivered as he ran his eyes over me, up and down, taking me in, his expression different from what it had been before, harder, determined, not the open, easy look that had so put me at ease during our meetings.

He moved so suddenly I couldn't react, his body pressing against mine, his hands gripping my shoulders and slamming me against the hallway wall, pain lancing through the back of my head as his forearm came up and pressed against my throat, locking me in place even as my hands came up to push back against that arm.

"Stupid bitch," he growled, his voice loud and harsh in my ears.  "Jeans?  You're wearing jeans, you stupid bitch?"  His other hand slipped down and pressed against my belly and suddenly my jeans were unbuttoned, his hand grinding down between my legs as I squirmed against the wall, shock, fear, and, deep in the pit of my stomach, a trembling excitement filling me as he manhandled me, his strength overpowering.

He spun me around so quickly by the time I thought to fight my face was pressed hard against the wall, his hand against the back of my head, his body pressed hard against mine, his leg between mine, holding me in place, his lips teasing my ear.

"You're here to be raped, you dumb cunt.  Rape toys don't wear jeans--they don't wear anything that gets in the way of the only things worth anything on their worthless bodies."  His breath tickled my ear, my lips parting as I panted against the wall, pushing against him, testing for weaknesses even as my legs trembled and my heart pounded.  I cried out as he twisted my arms behind me, the cry cut short as he slammed me forward against the wall:  once...twice...three times, shocking the breath from me, making me dizzy and disoriented.  I heard the cuffs click around my wrists--metal cuffs!  I pulled at them even as he pressed a cloth over my mouth and nose, his hand feeling so large against my face, my breath suddenly cut off, panic setting in as I tried to whip my head around, tried to free myself, my chest heaving, trying to scream out my safe word, screaming it out in my head even as I bent and writhed in his grip.  "RED!  RED!  RED!".

I hadn't noticed in my struggles that we had moved into the room until he shoved me, sending me staggering across the room to collapse against the single queen bed, his body shadowing mine, on top of me before I could take that one deep, beautiful breath, his hands gripping me under the shoulders and tossing and flipping me onto the bed.  I saw a flash of silver and froze, terror rising in me as I saw knife, a big, wicked looking thing, and felt cool steel against my throat, his body over mine.  "RED," I gasped out, my heart pounding in my chest, my ears filled with the sound of my own fear, and I felt the pressure of him lift from my body even as he still maintained his position over me, the feel of the knife lifting from my neck until it was in front of my eyes.

Blade side up, I realized as my pulse and my breathing slowed, my eyes focusing beyond the fight or flight response he had created.  Blade side up, dull side against my throat.  Safe.  No threat.  No death.  Just fear and panic and thrill.  Oh god a thrill racing through me so strong I gasped out.  I focused on his face, still, his body unmoving, the knife trembling slightly in his hand as he held himself over me.

"Green," I whispered, and he was back on me, the cool metal of the knife back up against my neck, his body on top of mine, pinning me, holding me in place.

"Keep still, bitch," he said, pressing the knife harder against my throat, turning and digging into the bag he had brought as I watched his face, his profile strong and clean, his face contoured with the thirty nine years of his life.  Then the view was spoiled, a contraption of straps and buckles and plastic swung in front of me.  He shifted on top of me, sitting on my quivering stomach, the knife still at my throat.

"Now, open that slut mouth of yours, cunt," he barked, and I felt his knees squeeze against my sides, his face leaning in closer to mine, the plastic dildo gag pressing against my teeth as he tried to force it into my mouth.  I opened, and gagged as it pressed deep into my mouth, my tongue trapped beneath it, my mind running to the thought "grunt three times for red light, grunt three times for red light, grunt three times..." as he buckled the straps around my head, silencing me.

"I don't want you screaming when I rape you," he said, lifting himself off of me, gripping the legs of my jeans as he stood by the side of the bed, dragging them from my legs, my shoes popping off as he stripped me.  As I felt the cool air of the hotel room against my thighs, I felt my position, my arms cuffed behind my back, my mouth silenced by a gag filling my mouth and pressing against my throat and held in place by straps around my head, on my back with a near stranger sliding my pants from my body.

Suddenly I realized that the knife was no longer in his hands, and I waited until my jeans had cleared my legs.  I kicked out suddenly and twisted my body over, rising to my knees before I felt him slam into me, knocking me onto my stomach, grunting through the gag as I felt his elbows dig into my back and his knees into my legs and ass.  I screamed into my gag as he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, pain lancing through my head, my shoulders, and my back as my chest arched off the bed.

"Spunky bitch," he growled in my ear, "I like spunky bitches; I like hurting them, a lot."  I shuddered as I felt his tongue against my neck near my collar bone, tickling its way up my neck to my ear, rough against my tender skin, sending a wave of sensation overwhelming the throbbing pain in my hair, my breathing coming in gasps.  His lips locked against my neck and I moaned in pleasure as he sucked hard, his teeth pressing into my flesh, and then I moaned in pain as his teeth squeezed my flesh between them, marking me.

He was off me and flipped me over easily, and then he was sitting on my stomach staring down at my flushed face, my wide eyes, my nostrils flaring as I panted with exertion, my chest rising and falling rapidly, my heart beating fast, the sound pulsing through my ears.  His fingers at my blouse made me buck and twist, even knowing it was useless as he opened up the light cotton shirt, revealing my flesh and my bra.  His hands were hot against my body, and I trembled as they slid along the sweat of my side.

The simple front clasp gave away easily before his fingers and he pushed the blouse and the bra to my sides, completely exposing my front, my breasts falling heavily against my chest, my nipples hard from the struggle.  He was looking directly into my eyes as he gripped both of my nipples between his fingers and began to squeeze, and twist, and pull, wanting to see the pain in my eyes, wanting me to scream.

I clenched my teeth around the gag, tears welling up in my eyes as the pain in my tits burned through me.  I wasn't going to scream; I wasn't; I wasn't going to give this bastard the pleasure.  I suppressed a yelp when I felt his nails digging into my sensitive flesh while he pulled them from my body, my tits distending into cones of flesh, his eyes still locked on mine even as I turned my head, my own eyes clenching shut in agony, my jaw straining against the gag.

Suddenly the pain was gone and shock exploded across my face--the fucker had slapped me!  Again I felt my cheek redden with pain and shock, and again.  Back and forth he slapped me across the face as he pinned me helpless beneath him.  I arched up in impotent rage, my head shaking back and forth, a scream coming from my throat, and he laughed, laughed at me and merely pushed me down and continued slapping me, the pain nothing to the humiliation of it, to the complete mastery that he was demonstrating over my body.

I bucked and I arched and I lunged and I twisted and I screamed, and he rode me and slapped me and held me down as if I were nothing more than a small child until I lay exhausted beneath him, and then he took my nipples between his fingers again and squeezed and pulled, and this time I screamed, I screamed loud and long as pain burned through my tits, my face flushed from his slapping and from my exertion.

"I think it's time to rape you, you bitch," he said, sliding down me and pulling my panties off me, leaving me nude from the waist down before I had recovered from the pain in my nipples.  He stood by the bed and looked down at me, his prize, his possession, as he slowly undressed, watching me for signs of rebellion, for signs of fight that he could brutally suppress.  I lay still, and kept my eyes on his movements, on his hands as they stripped of his shirt, revealing broad shoulders and a nice, flat stomach.  His pants came off revealing boxers, and his boxers came off and he was nude, his cock rampant.

I couldn't take my eyes off of it, his cock, so hard, sticking out, bobbing as he stepped closer, my ankles in his hands as he climbed onto the bed, and I moaned in pain as he bent my body in half, my cunt facing the ceiling as he bent over my, my ankles on either side of my head.

"Can't wait, can you, you dirty slut?  Can't wait for my cock.  I can see your nasty, wet hole there, just begging for it.  Slut."  I blushed, and moaned through the gag as his cock slid along my gash, surprised how good it felt, how slick I was, how ready I was to take him.  Back and forth he slid it, his hands at the back of my knees now, holding me obscenely exposed, helpless, unable to even squirm to fight him.  He was going to take me, to rape me, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, I could do to stop him.  I moaned and my back arched, my eyes closing, and I waited for him to take me.