Woman Across The Street

Hot days, and humid. My kind of weather, the muscles feel fine, the joints move smoothly, there's nominal friction as sweat coats the skin.

Her bike bumps on the porch and she comes inside, the door swings wide then back. My eyes follow her through the louvered door as she kicks off the cycling shoes. She opens the fridge. I open the louvered door. She downs the lemonade in long thirsty gulps. I cross the slate tiled floor with long soundless steps. She bends over to see what is edible, and in an instant my hands are on her. Sweat-slickened, she slips from my grasp, turning in close to me, smashing her bike helmet in my face. She sweeps my feet from under me and as I see the floor coming up fast I think, this not going the way I had planned.

I come to as a glass of ice and water is hurled in my face. She is bent over me with the point of a vegetable knife under my chin. I move my head back but the knife point follows. A drop of something, water/sweat/blood? runs down my neck. Her eyes glitter and I see she has found my i.d. from my pants that I left in the closet. My hands are tied at the wrists behind my back and my ankles are wrapped with pantyhose. Inventive. By the clock I was out for three minutes.

Her eyes sweep my body, and a sneer curls her lip when she sees my half-hard cock. Switching hands on the knife, she reaches down and grips it hard, hefting it the way I would heft a sword handle, then her fingers curl around my balls and she squeezes, hard. Purple lights dance in back of my eyelids and I note that I have forgotten about the knife pointed at my brain. As she relaxes her grip, the pain ebbs and I am reminded to keep my head strained back.

She gets a distracted look on her face, then grunts, gets up and walks out. In a moment I hear the sound of her urinating. In an instant, I have passed my hands under my feet, thanking under my breath the hours of flexibility exercises. I reach for the knife block on the counter and manage to extract the carving knife, when I feel the chilling point of her blade at my brainstem. My fingers loosen and the carving knife clatters on the counter. A loop of raw silk cord passes under my chin and she tugs me upright. The cord is looped over a hook in the ceiling and she draws it tight. I do not intend to rise fully so that I have a little slack, but she sees and her face twists in a cruel smile. Again, I feel her grip on my balls and she literally drags me up onto my toes. The cord takes up any slack.

I still have some confidence, because my hands are in front of me. But she puts a collar around my neck and, raising my hands, snaps them to the collar.

If I stand up on the balls of my feet I can breathe through my nose at least. I can rest flat on my feet, by holding my breath and counting the seconds so I don't pass out.

She sneers at my obvious discomfort as she trails the tip of the knife up the inside of my thigh, leaving a red welt. She pokes my ball-sac with the knife then hefts my cock with the flat of the blade. As my cock starts to harden, she turns the knife edge-uppermost and follows my rising shaft. She is only a bit shorter in height, and I am beginning to appreciate that she has the same temperament and proclivities.

She leaves me, and presently I hear the kushshshshsh sound of the shower. I am working my hands to create slack in the wrist nylons. Not fast enough, only seven of my toes up-toes down cycles. I hear her wet feet on slate. For an instant I hear a whish then my buttocks are suddenly electrified with a whip-lash. She grunts with the force of the blow, then plies five more in rapid succession. My eyes are bugging out from the constriction around my neck and I am shaking from the pain of the whipping. She comes beside me and fondles my balls and cock again, and again they rise up. She still has the whip in her hand and tries to force it between my lips. "Kiss it!" She hisses and grips my balls in warning. I cannot move my jaw because of the cord around my neck.

Seeing this she loosens it an inch, and stands back to deliver two more slashes to my ass and thighs. Once, the lash end curls around and strikes my cock and the pain is excruciating. She comes back and stands close to me, and I see now that she is naked, just stepped from the shower with beads of water and sweat on her skin. My tongue longs to lick them off. She slides her body against my side and brings the handle of the whip up to my face. She slides it slowly around, over my forehead, my temples, along the line of the cord around my neck. The handle is in the shape of a cock I can see as again she presents it to my lips, jamming it in between them, over my teeth and inside my mouth. She lets go the handle and it falls out. Disappointment fills her eyes, as she savagely wrenches on my cock. I will not give her the satisfaction of any words from me.

She bends over the pick up the whip and as she makes to rise, she slides her mouth over my cock in one deep slow slide. Down over it her lips go, then slowly withdrawing. She steps back and plies more cuts with the whip this time from the front so the blows fall on my cock and balls as well as on the fronts of my thighs. My cock is so hard at this point and my sensations so distorted that the blows feel as caresses. She leaves me panting and goes behind me. I hear sounds of sliding and snapping, and then the cut of the whip again. Her breathing is hard with excitement, as she comes close behind me and wraps her arms around my torso. Her hands are on my cock stroking it, then on my nipples.

Ouch! I gasp as she pinches them brutally, uncaring of my sensations, using my body as she wills. As I squirm, I feel something hard between my legs. Her left hand reaches down between us and she guides, what I assume to be a strap-on dildo up between my ass cheeks. I raise up on my toes and she is too short to follow me, but the plastic cock is nestled, waiting for me to descend. She laughs a low sneering laugh, and gripping my shoulder, pulls me down. It is still not low enough, so she steps away. Reaching into the cupboard she brings out a jar of olive oil and applies some to my cock. She strokes it lazily, almost absent-mindedly as she also liberally coats the dildo.

She kicks a telephone book behind me and standing on it, rapes my ass in a single brutal stroke. The pain of the prick is white hot in my belly, as she works it back and forth, then with a grunt she grips me by the shoulders and shudders as she comes on her end of the stick.

Spent, she clings to me for moments as my cock is bobbing furiously in front of us. My hands are nearly free.

She withdraws and I hear her padding away across the floor. There is some noise in the bedroom and in an instant I have slipped my wrist restraints, slid the cord off over the hook and from around my neck. I pick the vegetable knife from the counter and slide it through the pantyhose around my ankles. Flexing my muscles frantically and noiselessly to work out the kinks, I listen to the noises from the bedroom. No doubt she is preparing for a scene in there.

I gather the silk cord from the rafters and slip silently across the hard slate floor towards the bedroom. The afternoon light spills through the window as I come through the door in a mass of muscle and fury. This time she doesn't have a chance.