As soon as the door was closed, my posture flowed from professionally stiff to freely flirtatious. Hands swerving over bodies, both his and mine, caressing, pinching, playing. Mine mostly traveled over his chest, then below to seemingly seek and discover the shape of his manhood. It was all part of the game. The illusion of a professional escort service had to be maintained. Someone with no other plans but to fulfill the duty at hand. It seemed to work, his body responding to my touch, his pants tightening in all the right places. He himself didn't smell too bad either, a little unshaven but clean otherwise. He responded with vigor, grabbing my breasts through my clothes. It wasn't horrible or particularly pleasant, but I moaned nonetheless, playing my part. It seemed to please him. It dawned on me that he was quite strong physically and that it would be difficult to keep him in check with conventional methods.
We moved to the location of our impending ritual.
As the man led the way my thoughts were still in high gear, still pondering the hows and whys of getting him into the perfect position. Then a simple solution presented itself to me. Occam's Razor. Tie him up. If his strength was beyond my control, and it was, it just meant I had to work around it. Things could get very nasty if he managed to hurt me with my own knife, not something I wished to happen. And, not a completely unsafe gamble, he might actually be into bondage or similar. He was quite receptive to my somewhat dominating stature, enjoying the forwardness of my actions and the resoluteness of what was going to happen. In fact, the prospect of sex with this man was not so bad for me either.
But it had to be done right.
We arrived. A square room with little space for anything, occupied by a closet and, most prominent of all, a single bed that didn't exactly seem fit for sex. The frame looked like it would fall apart by the touch, or at least creak ridiculously. However, the sheets themselves weren't too dirty, patterns and colors could still be seen. It was a relief, actually, that the inside of his apartment looked nowhere near as dirty as the hallway. Not that it was as clean as I would have liked, but it would do. Slowly an odd realization struck me. The room, as well as the rest of the apartment, contained a distinct lack of personal items. No pictures, trophies, memorabilia or anything else was visible. Did he have no life? Moving onwards, I steered the conversation towards my plans, bondage, to see if he had anything at hand to tie someone up.
But it did lead to a fleeting flow of ideas that expressly exposed his interest in the matter. Basically, he wouldn't mind at all being tied to the bed. Improvisation then. He had some old sheets that, with his permission, could be and were ripped into thin strips, serving my plans. While bondage wasn't my kink, I did get quite a bit of enjoyment in seeing my plans come together. Erotically and slowly, I readied the strips at each corner of the bed and started undressing him. To make it fun (for both of us) I tried to remove all of his clothes as smoothly as possible, using my teeth as much as my fingers. At the very last I pulled his pants down, using my mouth, without touching his member. Some things were all the better for the anticipation, and I knew well how to perform on the instrument called man. Every moment was a new tune, reflected in breath and moans. Gentle pushes led him to the bed, patience, caresses and bites as the strips of sheet wrapped around his ankles and wrists, firmly tied to the bed. It wasn't so tight that it was under constant tension, but it was more than strong enough to keep him. It's amazing how thin cloth, relatively easy to tear on its own, became a strong and constricting bond by merely using it in layers.
I hoped it would hold.
In an act of kindness (or cruelty perhaps) a pillow was placed underneath his head, allowing admiring glances as I slowly stripped. Some dirty words left his lips, urging me on, urging me closer. All of the wheels were turning, everything in place. Time for fun. I wanted him to think all was well until the very last moment, the climax. His penis already poked the air eagerly, twitching slightly with his heartbeat. My naked body approached the bed seductively swaying, my hands fluttering over his legs towards his balls but missing them closely. More twitching and moans. I climbed on the bed, my hands continued their journey upwards, over his stomach and chest, rolling his nipples between my fingers. Leaning down, I let the tip of my tongue lick swiftly over the engorged member, his ensuing gasp a testament to my prowess. A little more up and my breasts enveloped the length of his shaft for just a moment, but I had other plans.
First some fun for me.
My naked body moved and turned, lowering my body close to his face, my labia just out of reach of his tongue. He grunted in appreciation, his head trying to lean forward, his tongue extended, to taste my nectar. All I needed to do was lean down and smother him with my groin. His response was an eager swirling licking over my clitoris and entrance, causing the first genuine moans to escape from my lips. Instinctively, I bent down my head to take his other head between my lips. A little salty, twitching more as the warmth of my mouth enveloped his member. The movements of his tongue increasing, as well as both our heartbeats. My fingers played teasingly with his balls and anus, getting a surprisingly eager response. For just a moment I regretted his impeded freedom, it would have been nice to feel those rough hands on my butt while he licked me. But, other things were more important. Like the surprising closeness of his orgasm. I could feel the rush of heat rising in his body and I had to stop.
It wasn't his time yet.
He bit my clitoris as I stopped, feeling frustrated and ravenously randy. It was more sensitive than I had thought, it caused a shock of pleasure through my body that I hadn't felt in a long time. Very slowly I lifted from his face and turned, moving my legs seductively and playing with my round breasts in front of him. His bound body moving as he wanted to reach and grab whatever he could get a hold of, but he couldn't. The bounds held well. My bag was readily within reach if I'd impale myself on him, an event that would soon come to pass. Gyrating my hips, my wet labia rubbing his shocking stiff member, it was apparent that he felt very ready, as did my body. But if I was to lower, it would have to be with style, with teasing.
His flow of moans stopped when my movements stopped. The stillness in his eyes filled with lust and desire, waiting for my next move. Agonizingly abating, my labia slowly opened for him to enter as more pressure was applied. The wetness, spread all over his stiffness, aided perfectly in guiding and sliding him inside, bit by bit. With every agonizing moment, his pelvis tried to move up, wanting to be further inside but I leaned on his legs with mine, if he was powerful enough to lift himself, my body just followed. He was completely at my whim. The final third of his length was done all at once. The corresponding gasps from both of us well worth the slight sting of such a powerful penetration.
And he still didn't know his fate.
Once fully impaled, I started to move and grind my hips against his. His body was eager to respond, both of our moans filling the otherwise wasted space. Movements starting out slow and subtle, bodies close to the edge from oral stimulation. Every thrust deep and delightful, he appeared to enjoy every second of it even more than I did. It didn't take long for him to be on the edge but that wasn't the purpose of this exercise yet, there was much more going on. With a little effort, I slowly turned around with him still inside of me. This had a dual purpose, perhaps even more. But the major purpose for me was to distract him with my bouncing butt while I retrieved my knife. The secondary effect was that it made him reach a different depth in me, igniting and spreading the fire. Therefore, I stayed a little longer in that position than needed.
Having to watch out that he didn't orgasm prematurely.
This time, when I turned back around, I lifted myself off him temporarily. He was still horribly stiff, quivering with every movement even vaguely nearby. It wasn't hard to make him come at a moment's notice, but that wasn't the real point, that one was held in my left hand behind my back. Teasingly he entered me again as my hips lowered once more. He was close, very close and I could feel it. I didn't require much more myself. The tip of the knife was cold against my back, sharp but comforting. It was almost time, my own body could feel it too. The whole bed creaked loudly as we moved but it didn't break. He was very close. And he closed his eyes, on the very edge...
In one smooth movement I lifted the knife and plunged it down in perfect synchronization with the final thrust. As the metal slid through his flesh I whispered one word that flowed out, despite its lack of volume, contained more anger than I had thought possible. Rapist. With that out of my system all the other elements making up this moment, his member filling me completely and the sudden scream of pain and orgasm through his body, lifted me to my high. I came.
It was more than a good orgasm.
It was a fantastic culminated complete crescendo.
The amount of fluid that flowed from my body, painting his stomach with a pale white sheen, felt absolutely amazing. The revenge, the conclusion, the sudden unwinding of moments leading up to this were monumental.
The guy, my rapist, had said something while death's warm and erotic embrace had taken him, but I'd missed it. My thoughts were on different matters. Perhaps it would come back to me later, though it might not even have been important. It felt so good to let go of the knife, knowing that I'd leave it there. It was payback, it was justice, it was as things were supposed to be.
Full of the afterglow of orgasm, pleasure, satisfaction.
Most of all... Sticky.