Kink: An Extreme Horror Story Read online

  While I let my tongue work its magic, I squeezed at the sides of her ass. Her body above me was unmoving. She was lying there like she was scared. I slipped my hand underneath her ass and squeezed the two perfect half globes. This girl was fit, perfectly proportioned. Better even than any of the student cardio bunnies down at the gym.

  It didn't take long to make her come. I don't want to seem immodest, but I am kind of a natural, and I'd never left a girl not satisfied. Never.

  Feeling her body spasm, I realized I was ready again too. She was so hot I figured I could probably fuck her a hundred times. Well, maybe not quite a hundred, but you get the idea.

  Raising my head I admired her vulnerable body yet again. I'd tied her wrists to the wrought iron frame of the bed like she’d ordered, and she looked so completely helpless with one tear running down her cheek. This was hot. Thank God we were only playing, though. Someone could really get a taste for this otherwise, couldn't they?

  I ran my fingers around her upper thighs, and her soaking wet pussy, before pushing her thighs apart. She tried to close them, squealed, moaned, but couldn't stop me.

  "You liked that, huh?" I asked her.

  She shook her head.

  I laughed. "Sluts don't come unless they're enjoying it," I told her.

  "Can't you just leave me alone?"

  "Hell no, bitch." I reached down and slapped her on the upper thigh, as close to the ass as I could get. "You know I'm not done with you yet."

  She just stared up at me.

  Be rough with me. Slap me. Choke me. Call me a slut, a whore, a bitch, a fuckpuppet, a cumslut, a cunt.

  Scratch my skin

  Bruise my arms

  Squeeze my neck

  Be a MAN

  Well, I was doing exactly what she'd asked. What she’d demanded. I wondered if I was being a disappointment. She didn't look happy. But then again, she wasn't supposed to look happy in this fantasy of hers. And anyway, she had definitely come when I'd been working on her pussy with my mouth. Definitely.

  After you come in my mouth, you come in my pussy. Can you do that?

  Hell yeah

  She'd made me send a copy of an STD test, to make sure I was clean. They did them free at the university health clinic so it wasn't a big deal. There was a slight embarrassment to get it done, of course. But hey, better to be safe than sorry. And it meant I got to fuck her raw.

  Yeah, it might make me look like an idiot. But I am a horny idiot. And if she was so eager to make sure I was clean, that must mean she was too, right? And obviously she would be on some kind of birth control, since she didn't want any kind of relationship; she just wanted to be used and abused.

  So now I got to fuck this tied up little nymphet, while she tried to resist. Goddamn this was gonna be fun.

  "Smash that pussy, bro," had been the last thing Jake had said to me when we'd split up earlier.

  "Damn right," I'd replied. He'd really made me realize how awesome this opportunity was.

  I grabbed her by the ankles, and pushed her feet and legs back next to her wrists. Staring down at her, a drip of sweat fell off the tip of my nose onto her lips. Reflexively, she licked it away, and stared up at me. She was shaking. She was literally shaking.

  "Now let's cream that pussy of yours," I said as I began to push myself into her.

  “No, no, no," she said, quietly, like she was playing the role of someone who'd given up.

  "Yes, you little whore. Yes, you little slut. Yes, my little fuck puppet."

  I couldn't help but close my eyes as I entered her, hotter, wetter, tighter than anyone I'd ever been with. Thank God I had come in her mouth just a few minutes earlier, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to last more than a stroke or two.

  Remember, DON’T STOP UNLESS I USE THE SAFE WORD. GOT IT?

  GOT IT!!!!!

  She lay there shaking her head as I began to fuck her toned supple body.

  With her hands bound to the metal railing there was nothing she could do, nothing except lie there writhing under me, moaning, unable to escape.

  This was just like she'd wanted it.

  This wouldn't take long…

  7 Cassie

  I was tied up, my wrists firmly secured to the wrought-iron poles at the head of the bed. If it had been a normal bed, with just a regular headboard, there wouldn’t have been anything for him to tie my wrists to. Perhaps I could have found some escape. But because I had chosen this beautiful, antique, Victorian wrought-iron, I'd given him something to tie me too.

  My fault.

  There was nothing I could do. With him above me, between me, in me. Nothing I could do but lie there and take it. I told him to stop. I told him to go away. I asked him for mercy, but no. Nothing. He was going to do whatever he wanted to me.

  When he was done fucking me, he pulled out, and looked down, staring as his juices leaked out of me.

  While he was inside me, my body had responded in a way that my mind had no control over. I'd felt myself clamping around him, my pussy squeezing him, milking him for every last drop and pulling him up deep inside me. Now, some of his release was leaking out onto the bed. I was going to have to change the sheets. Not just change them, get rid of them.

  "And now to move on to the last item on the menu," he said with a laugh as he reached over and undid my wrists.

  I let my arms drop to the bed, appearing docile. He lowered his face down, just above mine, and that's when I struck. Whipping my right hand from beside my head, I swung and landed a smack on the side of his face, his sweat-slicked skin slapped by the palm of my hand.

  His hand moved then too, fast as a snake, and gripped me around the wrist, squeezing tight.

  "Oh, so you want it rough now, do you?"

  "No, no. No more. No more."

  "Yes, more."

  He yanked at my wrist and shoved his other hand under my upper thigh. Flipping me over he squeezed both my wrists together and shoved them forward. In seconds, he had them secured to the iron frame of the bed again. There was nothing I could do.

  "Now, for my favourite bit. With my head buried down into the pillow I couldn't see what he was doing, but I felt it, when suddenly a mouthful of spit dropped onto my ass. A moment later it was followed by a probing wetness as he entered me most intimately with his tongue. I let out a gasp. His mouth lifted away.

  "Like that? You are a real slut." His tongue didn't return. But his cock did.

  He held me tight around my waist, as he pushed himself into me, so big, so hard, filling me up. Another hand reached underneath me, and he shoved a finger inside my still wet, cum-leaking pussy. And then he began to thrust.

  Hard.

  Like he didn’t care if he hurt me.

  8 Rich

  There's nothing quite like exploding in the ass of a hot, tied up thirty-year-old slutty nymphomaniac, is there? Nope, nothing quite like it at all. I could get used to this.

  She'd managed it. We had gone through the whole laundry-list of her fantasies without using the safe word once. And I’d done my part pretty damn well, if I do say so myself. I played the tough guy, the rough guy, having his wicked way with her, whether she liked it or not.

  Now I was spent. Three times, in such a short period of time? Not many guys could do that. I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her breasts and holding her tight to me, her back pressing into my chest. I slowly grew limp inside her tight, twitching ass.

  I kissed her tenderly on the neck as I pulled out, then moved back to admire her again.

  I kneeled above the pale, naked girl lying atop her white satin sheets. It was what artists called the golden hour, and the warm glow of the almost setting sun pouring through the tilted venetian blinds lit her perfect body with a radiant glow.

  She was slick with sweat, her skin marked with scratches and red impressions that would soon become bruises. I'd never done anything like this before. I'd slept with girls, sure.

  But not like this.

  Not. Like. This.
<
br />   I slowly shook my head.

  "That was amazing. Amazing. I can't believe you didn't say it."

  She was silent for a moment, the only sound being her shallow breaths in and out. The frantic breathing of earlier now beginning to calm down. Her voice was weak and muffled as she spoke down into the pillow.

  "Say what?"

  "You know,” I said, lightly running my fingers over a deep red mark on her back, “the safe word."

  After what I’d done to her it amazed me she hadn’t said it. She’d told me to give it to her rough, and I did, but even so...

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about." There was another shallow breath as my heart dropped down into my stomach. "Please, don't kill me. Please."

  She began to sob.

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.

  What the hell was going on?

  What had I done?

  The messages I’d received were they from someone else, pretending to be her?

  Don't stop, unless I say the safe word. The safe word is “Oklahoma”. You are to ignore any other requests I make for it to stop. Got it?

  Got it.

  So what do you do if I say, “Stop!!!”

  Ummm…

  NOTHING. You keep going. Understand?

  I understand.

  So what do you do if I say, “Please! Please! Don’t do this!” and begin to sob?

  Fuck you harder?

  Damn straight.

  “Oklahoma! You were supposed to say ‘Oklahoma’ when you wanted me to stop!”

  My heart was pounding in my chest. Waves of shame mixed with panic washed over me. I was in trouble. I was going to jail. Oh God I know what they do to people in jail, people who’ve… raped someone. People like… Oh God... me…

  “You thought this was some kind of game?”

  “I got all those texts from you!”

  “I don’t even have a phone, asshole! You didn’t even think to check whether I was, you know, in on it, whatever the fuck this is?”

  “But…”

  “So, what, are you going to kill me now to hide the evidence, asshole?”

  “What!? No!”, I said, reaching forward to remove her restraints in a panic, as if if I removed them fast enough that’d make things right — Sorry I just fucked you in the mouth and pussy and ass after breaking into your house, but I was quick about removing the restraints, so all is forgiven?

  When her wrists were free, she got up from the bed, standing by the side of it. Hands on her hips, she stared down at me. I felt small as a child under her withering stare, her eyes piercing into me like glaring daggers.

  “Can you fix this?”

  I just stared at her. How do you answer a question like that, when you’ve done what I had done; committed the crimes that I had committed.

  “I said, ‘Can you fix this’?”

  She pointed down between her legs.

  “And this.”

  She half-turned and ran her hand over her perfect ass. The skin was glowing red and had several scratches I didn’t even remember giving her. God she’d been tight…

  “Well? Can you fix this?”

  “…how?”

  Hands still on hips, eyes still filled with venom, she glared down at me, ignoring my pathetic question.

  “Who did this? Who arranged for you to… do this to me?”

  “What? I thought it was you. I thought it was you. I thought it—”

  “Stop repeating yourself, asshole. Did anyone else know about this?”

  I shook my head. “I, I— told my friend Jake today, but he didn’t know I was coming here to meet you until I told him! he didn’t know anything”

  Her eyes narrowed. “So he knew you were coming over here to do,” she waved her hands down over her naked body tainted with red marks and bruises, “this?”

  A desperate nod. As if partially incriminating my friend, who had nothing to do with what happened apart from offering some little encouragement, would somehow help. “He guessed I was going to see a girl, and then… it all came out. I showed him the texts from you.”

  “Not from me.”

  “Sorry!”

  “So he just guessed you were going out on a… rape. I mean ‘date’.”

  Another nod.

  “Seems a little convenient, no?”

  Sweet relief flashed across my mind, if only for a moment. I’d been set up! Of course I’d been set up. Someone who wanted to harm me, to ruin my life, had tricked me into doing this. But it couldn’t have been Jake. Not him, no way. We were buds.

  “It wasn’t him. I’m sure of it. What about someone you know?” I asked. That was more likely, surely. Someone who had issues with her arranging for her to be terrorized in her own home.

  “Don’t try and blame me, asshole.”

  “I wasn’t trying to blame you!”

  “Shut up, then.” She glanced at the clock. My eyes followed hers. It read 5:45pm in green digital numbers.

  She stepped closer to the bed. Her perfect, naked form above mine. If I hadn’t been in such deep shit right then the sight would have had me…

  “Lie down. Arms back.”

  I cocked my head at her, uncertain, until I saw the look in her eyes again that brooked no discussion.

  If only she wouldn’t call the police.

  If only she wouldn’t have me arrested.

  If only, if only, if only. For now I’d do everything she asked. Anything to appease her.

  My wrists rested against the metal frame of the bed, the cold metal sending a wave of goosebumps down my skin. She looked down at me, eyes running over my body, her look hard to read. She reached down to the two silk pillowcases I had used to restrain her, picked them up, and then leaned over me to begin tying my wrists.

  As she reached over to fix my wrists, one hard-pointed nipple hovered just above my mouth, above my lips. I stared at it, fixated, as it bobbed above my head. I couldn’t help myself. It was primal, instinctual. Of its own accord my head jerked up and I clamped it between my lips, my tongue whipping over it and around it.

  “Oh!” an involuntary shriek from her and she jumped back, eyes wide.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’d really done it now.

  “You sick prick! I knew it! There were no texts. No safeword. No Jake. None of it!”

  “No! It’s true! I swear it’s true, it’s true, it’s true.”

  What the hell was wrong with me. I was a fuckup, and I'd just fucked up again. I was in so much shit now. Dammit, I should have run. But now I'd let her tie me up. What was I thinking, letting her do that.

  If only I'd run.

  She didn't have my number, didn't know who I was, didn't even know my name. But instead, like an idiot, I'd sat around talking to her, feeling guilty, and now she had me in a very compromising situation.

  "Are you going to call the police? I asked her."

  She had her hands on her hips again. Her naked hips. Oh dammit, I was getting hard again.

  "Of course I'm going to call the police. After what you did to me? I could probably kill you, and then call the police, and they wouldn't prosecute me."

  "Please! I'll do anything!" Oh my God what the hell had happened to my life. A few hours ago I was just a regular old college student, months from graduating, off to have some hot, kinky sex with a slut I'd met online.

  Now I was a rapist.

  A rapist who was tied up in my victim's house.

  A victim who was now threatening to kill me.

  "Anything?" she asked.

  I nodded my head so hard it jerked a kink into my neck.

  She began to laugh.

  Goosebumps appeared all over my body and I let out an involuntary moan. That laugh. There was something wrong with that laugh.

  I yanked my wrists hard, but no, they were firmly attached to the railing. They weren’t going anywhere.

  Her shoulders shook as she continued to laugh down at me.

  “I got you, Rich.”

  She did
know my name!

  “I got you good.”

  Relief flooded over me.

  But it didn’t last long.

  What the fuck was her game?

  9 Cassie

  He had arrived right on time. I had been worried that he wouldn’t; that’s the problem with young people, they tend to be less reliable. But, with my special needs, I needed someone young and virile like him.

  You already know I like to be in control of everything. I need to know precisely what I’m going to be doing at any precise time, how long it’s going to take, how many calories I’m going to burn, the effect it’ll have on my mood — everything.

  But you know what?

  Sometimes a girl has to let loose; break free from her rules. Sometimes I need to give myself the illusion that I’m not in control. Give myself a little freedom from the tyranny of the taskmaster inside my head and let someone else be in charge for once.

  So, once every twelve months (of course this is scheduled carefully) I break down, and put myself under the control of someone else. Someone like the stupid fellow I’d brought over today.

  Initially, I’d been pleased with him. He had done as I’d asked, tying me up and then using my body in basically the way I’d prescribed. He was a little bit of a pissant of course, a little too afraid of hurting me (ignorant fool that he was), and so his slaps and squeezes, pinches and bites all had a slightly hesitant feel to them, at least at first, as if he was afraid of hurting me, despite my very strict instructions that he was to be afeared of no such thing.

  Nonetheless, his performance had been acceptable. Better than average. It wasn’t like the time I’d had some unfortunate sap stop fucking me the first time I let out a cry of complaint and start saying “I’m not doing anything until you can confirm it’s ok. I need to make sure you’re still into this.”

  It really takes you out of the whole rape fantasy when you have to cajole the supposed assailant into actually attacking you. That guy had not lasted long at all. And my year had been ruined.