From: an84561@anon.penet.fi (Dark Dreamer)
X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories
Organization: Anonymous forwarding service
Reply-To: an84561@anon.penet.fi
Date: Thu, 29 Feb 1996 01:14:42 UTC
Subject: Dark Dreamer - Helpless - (NC BD SM Mf)

   NC/Mf/rape/B&D/S&M

   Helpless

   Stephanie McMichael had never really been demure.  She had never been
reluctant to use her looks to get what she wanted.  In a sense, she thought
of her looks as a career asset, sort of like her wardrobe.

   She invested a lot of time, money, and effort into maintaining both.

   It was easier to maintain the wardrobe than the body, that only took
careful shopping, good taste, and money.  The body, on the other hand,
required steady exercise, long hours at the beauty salon for manicures,
pedicures, skin conditioning, more time at the hair stylist, then careful
maintenance every day.

   It helped, of course, that she was, unarguably, undeniably, absolutely
beautiful.

   Her face was soft, the contours carefully sculpted.  Her cheekbones were
high and finely etched, her nose small and delicate, her lips full, soft
and pouting.  Her eyes, depending on her mood, could be wide and round and
innocent, or sharp and piercing and intelligent.

   Her hair was like spun silk, chestnut brown, hung thick and evenly and
smoothly down around her head, spilling over her shoulders, and flowing
half-way down either her back or her chest, depending on the impression she
wanted to give.

   She was tall for a woman, and walked with a dancer's grace, lithe and
smooth, with careful poise.  She had long, exquisitely honed legs, a
perfectly rounded ass that pushed out invitingly, full, firm hips, a
surprisingly narrow waist, and large, yet not too large breasts that were
firm and sat high on her chest.

   She could be, by degrees, charming, seductive, friendly, sympathetic,
helpful, understanding, and ruthless, very, very ruthless.  She was called
a shark by some, a bitch by others.  There were many other epithets hurled
at her, mostly behind her back, mostly obscene.

   Stephanie McMichael sold real estate, not the little cookie cutter homes
in the valley, but the big million, and multi-million dollar ranch houses
and mansions on the hills of Beverly Hills and Palos Verdes and the beaches
of Malibu.

   Most of the buyers were men, and she played up to them shamelessly.  And
if the customer was a woman, and if the woman was susceptible, then she
would play up to them as well.  Stephanie had been the top seller in La
Costa Real Estate before leaving to form her own agency.

   The McMichael agency was rapidly becoming one of the major players in
the LA area market, and Stephanie was most of the sales force, her and one
young lovely protege named Susan, who she'd renamed, for the client's
benefit, Suzanne.  It sounded more alluring.

   Her office was in Beverly Hills, larger than it needed to be...  to
impress, expensively decorated in light scandinavian woods and softly
colored Persian carpets.  Plants abounded.  Light flooded into the common
area through large windows.  Her private office had a skylight over her
large, elliptical desk.

   Almost everyone was surprised, then, to see Stephanie, the obviously
successful and wealthy proprietor, for she was, in addition to a
magnificent body and stunning looks, quite young, and looked younger.  Her
perfect, silken hair shone in any light and framed the face of a twenty
year old woman.

   She was, as it happened, twenty-six, but appreciated her even more
youthful looks, and used them to her benefit at every opportunity.

   Of course, her mind was more important than anything else.  She knew how
to access her clients, to figure out what their wants and needs were, what
they were willing to pay, how they wanted to be treated.  She could be a
business-like no-nonsense career woman, a sophisticated, seductive flirt,
or a smiling, bright-eyed, yet oh so carelessly beautiful young thing.

   Right now she was the seductive, lusciously attractive sophisticate, the
nose just slightly turned up, the smile just a little superior, the eyes
knowing, the voice strong, confident, dipping to soft and conspiratorial.

   She wore a tight skirt that was short, but not too short, the stockings
dark, the heels high, yet not too high, the shirt red silk, outlining her
hourglass figure.

   Everything was set...  almost.

   She was having problems with this client.  His name was Edwardo
Ramierez. He was tall and broad shouldered, handsome, in a rough sort of
way, and very smooth talking.  On the other hand he had the day old beard
look that went out when Miami Vice was cancelled.  He had the same kind of
silk jacket, T-shirt look too.

   His attitude swung wildly from urbane and cultured, to cunning and
calculated.  The looks he gave her were, alternately, respectfully
attentive, or deeply penetrating, his eyes almost boring into her skull at
times.

   This flustered her a little.  She was used to men undressing her with
their eyes, but Edwardo Ramierez seemed to be trying to see into her very
soul.

   She felt uneasy around him, and her confidence sometimes evaporated. 
She lost her train of thought on several occasions, and misspoke, even
stuttering a couple of times.  She wasn't quite sure why.  She felt cowed,
apprehensive, her insides fluttering and shaking.

   She also felt a deep, deep animal magnetism.  Which was crazy since she
usually hated his type.  He was hopelessly out of fashion, declasse,
really. His rough masculinity was the kind that made her smile at the
immaturity of the male sex.  He was a macho jerk, insensitive, arrogant,
and chauvinistic.

   So why did she feel her insides burning, her pussy juice flowing, her
breasts swelling?

   After all, flirting with the clients never, ever came to anything, no
matter what idea they got.  She never, ever, ever fucked clients.  She sold
houses, not herself.

   As she walked him down the hall towards the gym his arm casually moved
around her waist, and she felt an electrical charge that kept her from
pushing it diplomatically away as she normally would have.

   Then his hand slid down onto her ass and squeezed it.  She stopped and
half turned towards him.  "Mr.  Ramierez," she protested.

   His other hand came up and gripped her throat, squeezing it tightly. 
His eyes bored into her and the words caught in her mouth.  She stared back
in fear, then, as his hand slid off her throat and up against the side of
her face, in a strange, hazy, enveloping heat.

   He gripped her hair, turning her towards him, pulling her head back
slightly, then his mouth shot in and crushed hers.  She struggled weakly,
and for only seconds, then gave up to the swelling chorus of lust and
desire inside her overheated body.

   His fingers kneaded her ass through the skirt as his tongue duelled with
hers inside her mouth.  She felt her breasts hardening, her nipples pushing
out against the thin, lacy french bra that held them barely in check.

   Then he pulled back, took her hand, and started walking forward again.
She stumbled, completely off balance, both mentally and physically.  They
walked into the gymnasium, and his eyes scanned the room as she tried to
get control of herself and resume the sales pitch.

   "A...as you can...see," she gulped.  "There is plenty of room for all
manner of exercise equipment.  The present owner has a wide assortment
here..."

   He jerked her to one side, as he walked over to a large punching bag
hanging from a hook.  It wasn't one of those small things, but the bigger,
full sized, heavy kind, and it hung from a thick round ring set into a two
by four that stuck out from the wall.

   He reached up with his hand, then let go of her wrist and gripped the
big bag.  He grunted as he lifted the hook off the ring, then flung the big
bag down on the floor to one side.

   "Mister Ramierez," she said worriedly.

   "I just need to test the height of the ring bolted up there," he said.

   "Te...test the...I..I have a measuring tape..."

   "Not necessary," he said.

   He gripped her arms and jerked her around and under the overhanging two
by four, then raised her arms, sliding his hands up to her wrists and
pinning them together high above her head.

   "Wha...what are..."

   "Just about right," he said, holding her wrists firmly.

   She looked up and saw that her hands were perhaps six inches under the
thick round ring.

   "M...mister Ramierez," she protested.

   "I need to step back to get a better look," he said.

   His eyes flicked up and down, then he smiled.  It was not a pleasant
smile.  Still holding her wrists above her he reached with his free hand to
his tie, and quickly undid it.

   "Mister...Mister R...Ramierez," she gulped.  "I...I really
must...protest...I..."

   "Shhh," he said.

   He took off his tie, then pulled her wrists down in front of her.  He
pressed her hands tightly together, as though she were praying.

   "Keep your hands together like that," he said, his voice low yet somehow
compelling, forceful.  She stared up at his face as she felt something
going around her wrists, then looked down.

   She saw him wrap the tie around her wrists once, then tie it.  She
gasped as he cinched it tight.

   "Mister Ramierez!" she gasped.

   "I need to see how it looks," he said.

   "Wha...what?!" she gasped.

   He wrapped the tie around her wrists again, then a third time, then took
the end and pulled it between her wrists, pinching the loops encircling her
wrists in tightly.

   "No!  Please, you...you'll have to stop this.  Untie me!" she said, her
voice shaky, cracking brittly.

   He ignored her, then raised her wrists up high again, he fed the free
end of the tie through the round ring and pulled up hard, making her gasp
in pain as the tie pulled in against her wrists, forcing her up almost onto
her toes.

   "Please!  Mr.  Ramierez!"

   He tied the tie off, then stood back several paces.  His eyes were cold,
black ice.  She stared at him in shock, then looked upwards, pulling
against the tie, trying to free her wrists.

   "Still something missing," he growled.

   He came closer, stood inches away from her, then his hands went to the
front of her silk blouse and he tore it open.  She cried out, a short,
sharp gasp of shock, then stared at him in fear.

   He smiled, a very thin, cruel smile, then reached to her skirt, undid
the zipper and buttons, and shoved it, letting it slide down to her ankles.

   "Please," she whimpered.

   He smiled again.

   He slid his hand gently over her belly, then moved around behind her. 
Hand still on her belly, he gripped her hair, jerking her head up and back
hard, making her cry out again.  He kissed her lightly on the side of the
throat, then let go of her hair.

   He gripped the back of her blouse and tore it open, then ripped the
remains of it to pieces.  He bent and gripped her skirt, then yanked it
away, pulling her feet out from under her.  For a few seconds all her
weight came down on the tie binding her wrists, and she cried out again as
it cut into her soft, ivory flesh.

   He moved around in front of her again, and pulled something from his
suit pocket.  It was a switchblade, and the blade snapped open, and
glistened menacingly.

   "Please don't hurt me!" she gasped.

   He said nothing, but pressed the sharp edge of the blade against her
throat, then caressed her skin with a feather's touch.  The blade moved
downwards over her chest, then over the elastic between the cups of her
bra.

   He slid the blade under it, pulling it outwards, then with a quick flick
the cups parted and fell to either side, baring her firm, rounded breasts.

   Stephanie began to tremble in fear, yet at the same time she felt a
strong tingling between her legs.  She didn't understand why or how, yet
somehow, she believed that he would not hurt her, not permanently anyway.

   With two quick slashes he cut the shoulder straps of her bra and it fell
away in pieces.  He slid the blade over her breasts slowly, sawing it
lightly along the skin, then he pressed the sharp point against her right
nipple and pressed inwards.

   She felt a prick at first, which grew into a sharper, biting ache.

   "Please," she whispered.

   The knife eased off, then slid down her body and cut her garter belt
away.  He slid a thumb into the top of her left stocking and pulled it away
from her thigh, then slid the knife against it and cut downwards, slicing
the material apart.

   He did the same to her other stocking, then gripped her right leg and
yanked it up.  She tried to balance herself on her left foot as he slid the
stocking down, then removed it and her shoe.

   He let her leg drop, then reached down and lifted her other, removing
the shoe and stocking before letting that drop too.

   Now clad in only a tiny pair of white lace G-string, Stephanie stood
helplessly exposed to his eyes as he moved back several paces and examined
her.  He looked up at the two by four, then down at her.  He raised his
hand and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

   He walked slowly around her, eyeing her firm, rounded buttocks, the tiny
white lace disappearing between them.  She felt his hand on her ass and
gasped, jerking forward before being brought up short by the tie.

   His finger slid inside the lace, then the knife cut it, then cut the
small string around her waist.  The G-string fell to the floor, and she was
naked.

   His hand moved up and down her back, then he moved to her side, his left
hand sliding down her spine and between her buttocks, down under them to
cup her bare pussy mound.  He smiled cruelly, his right hand cupping her
breast, weighing it, his thumb stroking the nipple.

   His hands shifted slowly, his right sliding from her breast, down over
her belly, and in between her legs, his left sliding up her ass, then
around her waist to cup her left breast.  He leaned into her, his lips
moving against the side of her throat, then the underside of her ear.

   His fingers slid lightly up and down her pussy slit at first, then eased
deeper, prying the soft lips apart and caressing the cleft between.  Two
fingers curled under and forced their way inside her, grinding over her
clitty as they pushed all the way up to the knuckles.

   Her chest was heaving, her breaths coming in harsh, strangled gasps and
pants.  She felt his fingers wriggling around in her pussy slit, then felt
his thumb come down on her clitoris.  It pressed down hard, then eased off
and began to stroke roughly up and down.

   His fingers moved with it, sliding in and out of her pussy slit, rolling
and grinding her clitty between them and her thumb.

   Stephanie's mind reeled as the heat raced through her veins.  Her sex
life, though healthy, had never encompassed anything like this.  She had
never slept with anyone she hadn't known for a long period of time.  There
were no...one night stands, no casual sex with people she barely knew.

   She expected, no, demanded, to be treated with respect by her male
friends and lovers, and that included in their sexual relationships.

   This...this...sudden...submissiveness, allowing him to tie her up and
strip her, this terrible, driving heat...this was like nothing in her
experience.  She didn't know what was going on or why.  Her body felt a gut
churning sexual need, and had almost since she'd laid eyes on him.

   His left hand kneaded her left breast as he slid his tongue down her
throat and over her right breast.  He licked at her nipple, then sucked it
into his mouth, sucking and chewing on it as she whimpered and moaned and
shook in helpless pleasure.

   He moved fully in front of her, taking his hands off her breast and
pussy.  He reached down to his pants and unzipped, then pulled his erect
cock out.  He smiled again, then his fingers dug into her right buttock,
forcing her leg up and out to the side.

   He pressed his boner against her slit, then quickly grabbed her ass in
both hands and jerked her up off her feet.  Her legs went around him and
his cock thrust deep into her belly as she cried out in shock and pleasure
and outrage, and felt his hard cockhead punch into her cervix.

   His hands held her easily, and he began tearing his cock back and forth
inside her soft guts, jerking her against him again and again.  His teeth
bit down on the nape of her neck and he sucked fiercely.

   Stephanie's legs gripped his hips as she whimpered and moaned and shook
in helpless delight.  Her entire body throbbed with burning sex-heat, and
her mind swam in a churning, bubbling stew that threatened to drown her.

   She felt his hardness up inside her,
thrusting...thrusting...thrusting...driving into the deepest depths of her
fuck tunnel on each savage pounding stroke.

   She felt the crackling heat ripping through her nervous system, shorting
out her brain.  She cried out in bliss, a blastwave of pleasure tearing
through her guts and searing her mind with its blossoming strength.

   She bounced mindlessly in his hands as he rodded his pole up into her
again and again.  Her head bounced up and down and her eyes rolled back in
her head as he jerked her violently against him, grinding himself into her.

   He came, spewing a thick, steaming mass of white hot liquid sex into her
belly, pumping wad after wad up into her womb as she thrashed and writhed
in wild abandon.

   He pulled back, then let go of her ass, letting her legs drop to the
floor.  She tried to stand up, but couldn't quite make her mind and body
work together.  She hung by the wrists, groaning and twitching.

   He put his cock back into his pants, then reached for his belt,
unbuckling it, then sliding it out of the loops.  He moved around behind
her as she started to get her feet on the floor, then doubled the belt in
his fist and eyed her smooth, white back.

   He raised the belt and slashed it down on her round ass cheeks.

   Stephanie felt something hit her ass just as she was shaking off the
languorous sexual steam that had been clouding her mind.  She felt the
blow, then, a second later, a shocking, ripping blast of pain tore through
her buttocks.

   She screamed, her body lurching forward as she tried to escape the fire
behind her.  But she couldn't move far, and the belt lashed down again,
cracking against her soft ass cheeks as she shrieked and sobbed in pain.

   She twisted around, as if somehow, with her ass out of his way he would
have no target for his violence.  She saw him standing there, arm raised,
the belt dangling from his fist, then he swung it down across her right
breast.

   The pain shattered her mind and flung her backwards.  She lost her
footing and her feet jerked and clawed at the floor as the belt cut across
her breast again.  She twisted around, howling and screaming, only to feel
the belt crack against her back.

   Again and again the belt lashed down on her back, starting at her
shoulders, then working its way down to the small of her back, then over
her buttocks.  Angry red welts rose all down her back and buttocks as the
belt cut through the air again and again.

   She stopped screaming as her back flared with burning pain, each new
blow drawing barely a grunt from the dazed, glassy eyed woman.

   He moved around in front of her, then slashed the belt across her right
breast.

   She screamed now, a mindless howl of agony as her throbbing breast
bounced and shook and burned with pain.  Again the belt cracked down, this
time against her other breast, then it hit the first, then lashed over her
belly.

   He took his time, his arm rising and falling, rising and falling, the
belt making her tits bounce and jiggle, or cracking into her thighs or
stomach.  He stopped finally, then put down the belt.

   He went to a nearby curtain and cut down the curtain cord, then returned
to where the woman hung limply from her wrists.  He bent and wrapped the
cord around her ankles, then lifted them up off the floor, raised her feet
up, and pushed them back against her head.  He then tied the cord to the
metal ring above her and stood back.

   She hung from wrists and ankles now, her legs pulled back against her
body and her crotch exposed, her ass cheeks upthrust.  He picked up the
belt, raised it high, then took aim, and brought it down against her
exposed pussy mound with all his weight.

   Her head snapped back and she screamed in agony, her ass jerking up as
well, and her entire body shaking and thrashing in frenzied desperation. 
Her eyes went wide and wild and she howled and shrieked as he slashed the
belt down on her pussy again, then again, then again.

   He had to shift his position as she twisted and jerked, swaying and
swinging in circles as the belt whipped against her pussy.

   Finally he stopped.  He carefully slid the belt back through the loops
of his trousers, then unzipped his fly and pulled his once more erect cock
out.  He rubbed the head up and down against her sweat-damp pussy crack,
then pressed it against her anus and slowly forced it inside.

   She moaned deliriously as his cock slowly worked its way up into her
rectum.  She whimpered, tears sliding down her cheeks as his cock jerked
back and forth, going deeper and deeper.  Then with a grunt he forced the
last inch up into her ass cheeks and ground his hips against her ass.

   His hands slid beneath her legs and gripped her breasts, squeezing and
crushing them as he worked his cock back and forth in her ass.  She looked
at him through teary, slitted eyes, whimpering as his cock moved back and
forth in her asshole.

   His hips smashed against her ass, swinging her body back and forth under
the two by four as he reamed out her tight tail.  He said nothing, nor did
he smile.  He pumped his cock steadily, using her like she was a machine,
jerking off inside her rectum.

   He shuddered briefly as he came inside her, and pumped his sperm into
her sucking bowels.  Then he pulled his cock out and twisted her around
until her head was before him.  Her long hair hung down limply, and he
grasped it and rubbed it around his cock, cleaning himself off.

   He put his dick back in his pants then pulled out the knife again and
flicked it open.  He reached up and slashed at the curtain cord, cutting
it. She grunted as her body unfolded, and her legs dropped down below her.
Then he sliced through the tie, and she fell limp to the floor.
   He turned and walked away, smiling slightly.  

