It was completely deserted when I pulled into the parking lot alongside the Metal Arts building, but at eight on a week night that wasn’t surprising. The majority of campus classes ended by five, so even the most devote students had given up on their masterpieces for the night and gone home, leave the entire area quiet as a graveyard. Come Friday and the beginning of the weekend, this lot would be packed end to end with beat up old cars like mine, as students swarmed to the bars downtown. But on a Tuesday, my beat up old Audi A6 was the only vehicle around.
I tried not to frown when the old girl gave a tired sigh as I turned off the ignition, but the car had held out a lot longer than many of it’s peers. I had worked my butt off in high school to buy it from my parents at full value, although I always expected the price they quoted me wasn’t really the true Blue Book, only to hand it off to my grandma for seven years after hers broke down. Now, almost twenty years old, it was back in my hands and on its final miles. Just getting downtown from the suburbs where I lived caused her to sputter along the highway, but I tried to blame it on the cold and her stubborn personality. I knew nothing of cars- other than I had seen the steel frame of the Audi annihilate the side of a Nissan when some bimbo decided to run a red light in front of me- so I wasn’t anxious to diagnosis the car’s issues. I only prayed it was going to survive to spring, and thaw out into a well working machine.
The slamming of my car door echoed loudly, but I had to put a little force behind it or else the darn thing wouldn’t close. The beep from the alarm arming when I locked the Audi wasn’t much better, bouncing off the sheet metal siding of the Art’s building. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets as I made for the backside of the building and the old train tracks, which were the quickest short cut to the friend’s house where I was spending the night. I had walked the same path dozens of times before when I had been a student, going past the set of abandon train cars that had been turned into trendy office spaces before, and the place was always quiet once the sun set. It was still earlier enough in the season to that there was no snow to mark my path, so there was nothing to indicate the path I took.
I loved walking by these old trains. The building where the walkway was used to be an old station, just a tiny one between the two big ones on either end of the city, but that too had been turned into office. The farthest office from the Metal’s building had been turned into a bike shop, but the neon signs advertising foreign sounding companies were usually turned off by this time. Instead, the old train cars parked right next to the station created a little cave, lit by a single bulb midway down, and then whatever street lights shown through from either side. When it got blistering cold, it was the perfect place to walk and hide away from the heat stealing winds.
The trains had this way of inspiring thoughts of entrepreneurship in me. I always imagined buying one of the empty ones- most of the trains and a good chunk of the station was pretty much abandon- and turning it into some ritzy knock off of a fifties dinner. I had gone to school for Psychology, not Business, but dreams of running a restaurant or hotel seemed to be about as common in girls my age as wedding dreams in little girls. Maybe the thought of nurturing a business from the ground up, creating some little mom and pa shop, was our consolation prize when we grew up and realized how unlikely the ‘perfect marriage’ really was. But walking on the old brick pathway, it didn’t feel like such a bad trade off to me.
But then again, part of the appeal of this place was its isolation. I doubted I would have had the same wild fantasies if I wasn’t completely alone in the dark, walking along side the old monsters of steal and iron.
The first thing I felt was the pain in my arm when they grabbed me. There was strength in the fingers that clutched my bicep, and the arm that was roped around my chest felt like it was carved from the same material as the trains. I would have yelped, but there was already a second forearm pressed firmly against my windpipe. Instantly I panicked, trying to bring my hands up to shove away those which held me, but their owner was a lot stronger than me and it only caused their grip to tighten. I realized that too much more pressure on my windpipe, and I wasn’t going to be breathing easily anytime soon, and if anything that only made me more fearful. What was going on? A prank of some kind? Aside from the friend I was visiting though, no one would have any clue I was here though, and I couldn’t really think of a friend who would find this funny. But I couldn’t be being attacked, right? That was only something you heard about on the news…
‘Stop and think,’ my oxygen craving brain shouted, realizing quickly the danger I was in of passing out with the minimal air going through my trachea. I closed my eyes, trying to think back to the few self defense moves I had learned from wrestling and an over-paranoid friend, but nothing came to mind. I could remember executing them perfectly on the mats, but right in that moment I hadn’t the slightest clue even where to begin. ‘Weak points, weak points, what did she say? Eyes, throat, groan, knees, ankles. Hit them.’
So I tried, but my attacker pretty easily stepped aside when I aimed a stomp for their ankles, and the arm around the throat got tighter. Obviously, I was that easy to read, and they seemed to have enough experience to figure out what I was going for. My panic grew as I realized the pure disadvantage I was at with them at my back; the arm around my chest kept my own arms pretty much trapped to my sides, and the arm at my throat was making it hard to think. They were quite a bit taller than me- not hard when you’re barely skimming five feet- so I couldn’t get an angle in which to kick them. ‘I can’t even reach their weak points!’ came the desperate cry of my brain.
But I struggled anyway.
I don’t know when I blacked out, but at some point I did. I knew from the paranoid friend that you usually only lose consciousness for a few seconds at most, but the attacker must have done something to keep me unconscious for longer. Waking up felt like being hit in the head with a text book, full force to the front of my skull, and my throat felt like it was collapsing in on itself. For a full moment I thought for sure the attacker had crushed my windpipe, smashing the delicate cartilage together, but then I realized I was breathing, and with realization came the lanes of fire down to my lungs as I gasped for air.
I was inside, and I was standing. My arms were up above my head, and I could feel the attacker at my back still. Or at least I thought it was them; the sweatshirt material where their chest pressed against my bare arm felt the same as it had by the trains. The bare arms meant my coat and shirt were gone, including my car keys and cell phone in the front pocket. The chest pressed against my arm was raised, and for a second I couldn’t figure out why.
And then it dawned on me; my attacker was a woman.
I had assumed they were a man. After all, you always heard about girls being mugged or kidnapped by men, never other women. It was just against the female code or something, making another girl feel that physically helpless when we had all been raised on the threat of being raped or murdered by some guy twice as big as us. The fact I had been kidnapped by a woman hadn’t even occurred to me.
Slowly my brain was starting to process things again. I was being strung up to the ceiling by some chains and hand cuffs, and the metal around my wrists was cutting awfully. She was a lot taller than me, probably closer to five seven than my five foot, so she had put me up far enough I had to half get on my toes to relieve some of the pressure on my wrists. Still, I could already feel the blood start to drain out of my arms, and knew if I was going to be here long it was going to be painful. After a moment she stepped back, not even aware I was awake or at least not acknowledging it.
My second realization was that I was blind. If my heart wasn’t already at full speed from the panic, I probably would have stopped breathing again from the pure force of it clamoring away in my chest. Had she drugged me and that was why I had been unconscious for so long? Had I had some kind of allergic reaction to the drug and was now blind? Was it permanent? Then I felt the material resting on my cheek, and the band of pressure around my forehead, and realized I had been blindfolded. Unfortunately, that third realization didn’t do much to calm the rock drummer behind my ribs.
‘So I’ve been kidnapped by a woman and tied up,’ I should have been more worried about how calmly my mind seemed to be rationalizing it, but at least it was. My body was in pure fight or flight mode, and there didn’t appear to be any way to do either. ‘I’m blindfolded, and inside somewhere. By why and what is she going to do?’
“W-what do you want?” My voice was hoarse, like I had just chain smoked two packs of cigarettes and down a bottle of Jack Daniels. If it was ransom she was after, she was in for a surprise when she found out our one effluent family was near bankruptcy, but I couldn’t think of another reason for the elaborate set up. Maybe it was just a prank, only a particularly nasty one set up by someone I pissed off? That wouldn’t be too bad, if she just wanted to scare me a bit and tell me I had been a bitch. Just so long as she didn’t want to murder me or…
That was when I felt her hand move from my neck, brushing past where my nipples strained hard against the light padding of my bra, and down to the button of my jeans.
There was no way my mind could even comprehend that. Money from ransom, maybe even revenge from some girl in high school I accidently pissed off- sure, I could get those motives. And nightmares of men touching me…there…were common place for girls like me raised to jump at every masculine shadow. But I literally froze in confusion as I felt her pop open the top bottom of my jeans and snake the zipper down, yanking them a off my hips a bit as she did so. Why was a woman stripping me? She couldn’t possibly want to…
It was in that uncomprehending daze that she got my pants off. Goose bumps spread across my body in waves as I stood there vulnerable, feeling her standing to the side of me in just my panties and bra. She must have taken off my shoes and socks along with the pants, because it was the cold concrete under my feet that let me know they were gone, and snapped me back to reality. I like a piece of meat, a carcass strung up for inspection, and I could feel her eyes on me, assessing her prize for the best cut. ‘Maybe she just wants to look…maybe it’s not sexual, just a way for her to try to scare me more…’
“Look, I’m sure we can work something out,” I cringed at how quiet my voice came out, and the almost defeated tone to it. No, I couldn’t appear like I was giving in; if she knew for a second of the terror raging a warpath through my veins, she was going to get whatever she wanted and more. And I was fairly certain I didn’t want to give up whatever it was she wanted. “Our family doesn’t have a whole lot of money, but I’m sure we can come up with something.”
“You really think it’s money I’m after?” Just hearing her voice for the first time sent what little confidence I had mustered for that speech running back to it’s cage. My over imaginative friends in the Arts programs would have compared the voice to thunder and rain, the threat of a storm about to wash over me, but all I could associate it with was the icy feeling starting in my stomach and causing my body to shiver. “I would have hoped the more elaborate binds would have clued you in that I’m not after your wallet.”
“I didn’t mean…not to imply…” I was shuttering again, unable to control the waiver in my voice any more than the tremors spreading down my back. She was getting closer, I could hear her footfalls on the concrete, but the warmth of her body heat couldn’t combat the cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck. “What I meant to say was that-”
“Shut up!” Her shout caused me to yelp, and then clamp my lips tightly in automatic submission. I hated being yelled at in the safest of circumstances, but the tiniest elevation in this woman’s voice took it a whole new level. I couldn’t help the whimper when I felt her arm wrap around me from behind, a hand coming to rest on my stomach as she brought herself behind me.
“You talk way too much.” This she whispered right beside my ear, her breath hitting the side of my neck like that of lovers before. I squeezed my eyes shut behind the blindfold, praying with a new found intensity that wasn’t what was on her mind. “Why don’t we just stick with you talking when I tell you to?”
“Please-” I started, and then yelped when her other hand wound its way into my hair and pulled my head back sharply. I felt my back arch in an attempt to reduce the strain on my neck, drawing her hand on my stomach up onto the cup of one of my breasts. She squeezed it roughly, grinding my nipple into the fabric of my bra, and I whimpered from the uncomfortable feeling.
“Not getting it, are you?” Came that whisper. I tried not to shudder, drawing in a ragged breath as I tried really hard not to think that her hand fondling my chest felt sort of…perversely…good. “I tell you to talk, you talk. Otherwise, you stay quiet.”
If I could, I would have nodded, but she took my silence as understanding and slowly let go of my hair. Pain shot through my neck as I slumped my head forward, trying to work out the tension her little punishment had created, but it seemed like every muscle in my body was tensed to its limit. I kept quiet, like she commanded, biting my lip when I felt her pull a knife from her belt and let my bra join the rest of my clothes somewhere on the cement floor.
She started kissing the back of my neck when her second hand- the knife put back away- met her other one at my chest. I couldn’t help the gasp of air when she started playing with my nipples, running them between her thumb and pointer finger until they grew hard at her touch. I didn’t need the blind fold off or a mirror in front of me to know my cheeks were red, but I kept praying that she just wanted to embarrass me as some sick joke. If I just kept my cool and said nothing, pretend like the adrenaline in my veins wasn’t slowly transforming fear into something else entirely…that was my thought process until I felt her bite down on my shoulder, and I let out an involuntary moan.
“See, you stay quiet and you get rewarded.” There was her damn voice again, the mouth that had been paying so much attention to my neck suddenly nibbling its way down the shell of my ear before taking a rough bite of my earlobe. “And you enjoy your reward, don’t you? You like this, huh?”
“Of course I don’t–” But I shouldn’t have tried to speak, because in a second her hand was entangled back in my hair and yanking it back. I screamed from the sudden movement and the cut of the handcuffs into my wrists, as this time she nearly bent me in half. I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up facing her chest, since I could feel the tips of my long hair brushing against the top of my ass. She had to step back to make me bend so far, and my breasts bounced almost painfully once her hands moved away.
“I said stay quiet!”
I whimpered, my body going into overdrive to use all that adrenaline to make fear again. Like before, her voice barely rose above a conversational tone, but it held an strict intensity that would make a drill Sergeant proud. She held me in the uncomfortable position for what felt like an eternity, before slowly letting my tangled hair go and letting me straighten. I couldn’t help but sag forward in the bonds, making the handcuffs cut deeper into my wrists, but it was a more bearable pain that the stiffness in my neck and back.
“Are you going to talk out of place again?” She asked simply, back to the pleasant half-whisper. I could feel her moving around me, but it didn’t prepare me for the coolness of the knife blade against my skin as she ripped the panties away from my body. Fully naked, I tried to squeeze my legs shut as tightly as I could as if to guard myself from her view, although at this point there wasn’t much more humiliation pure nudity could inspire in me. “Or are you finally learning?”
I didn’t rise the bait this time, simply raised my head a little and hoped she could imagine the intensity of the hatred behind my glare. The blindfold, however, probably made it impossible for me to look anything close to defiant.
“Good girl,” I heard her whisper, and before I knew it those hands were back again. She played briefly with my nipples again, but I bit down hard on my lip so no more unwanted moans could work their way up from my throat. “Shall we just see if you enjoyed your reward?”
I couldn’t help the sound of protest when I realized what she meant, my mind clued in when I felt one of her hands journey down my stomach towards the area between my legs. I tried to jerk away, but she anticipated this too, letting her other hand grab my hip roughly and keep me in one place. As much as I tried to imagine my knees were glued together, and there was no way she could get them open, before I knew it her fingers were running themselves over my clit and beyond. She used her middle finger and thumb to spread my lips apart, the presence of her hand forcing my legs apart slightly, and then her pointer finger was inside…
I froze in horror. I was wet.
I could feel it the moment her finger entered me, but I never would have suspected it. Yeah, her playing with my breasts hadn’t been entirely horrible, and that little bite to the shoulder had felt really good, but there was no way I could be wet. I was more afraid than I had ever been in my life, and she was touching me against my will! I felt my cheeks heat again, but this time from the shame of my own body betraying me.
“Hmmm…” She practically purred in my ear, bringing her body up against mine again. Even stretched to my tip toes, she was still quite a few inches taller than me, so it brought my head uncomfortably close to her chest. The fabric of her shirt- she had ditched the sweatshirt at some point- was soft and smelled like detergent, but I could smell her underneath it. Not sweat, but more like dust and rusty metal, and a very light scent of something spicy. “You are enjoying this. You little liar.”
Without warning, she thrust two fingers into me and my head snapped back of its own accord from the pain. I wasn’t a virgin- college had taken care of that- but it had been a while and the sudden penetration was much more than my usual lovers would put my through so quickly. Being wet had helped though, and I felt my throat get tight with the threat of tears when I realized I was already dripping down her fingers.
She was still for a while, letting my ragged breath return to normal. I could feel her lips against the top of my head, almost as if she were a real lover and genuinely concerned for me, waiting for me to be ready for her to move again. Her other hand remained firm on my hip, however, a reminder of my helplessness and how easily she had subdued all my attempts to physically resist her.
“You’ve hurt my feelings by lying to me,” she said, leaning down to repeat on my other ear what she had done to the one before. Having to lean down to reach me at least forced her body away from me, creating a pocket of air between us as she started kissing carefully along the edge of my jaw. I gasped when I felt one of her fingers twitch inside me, and her thumb rest lightly on the top of my clit. “Rule number two is going to be that you don’t lie to me anymore about how you’re feeling. I expect to hear the truth from your lips.”
This last part was whispered just above mine, before she kissed me.
I started crying when she forced her tongue past my lips, but I remembered rule one and didn’t try to speak. I just tried to remain motionless as she kissed me, her fingers slowly coming to life inside me and stroking the insides of my walls like she was strumming a bass. At least my whimpers from the tears were good disguises for my moans when her thumb started moving too, brushing slowly over my clit while her fingers played inside. I rode those feelings of pleasure out as quietly as I could.
But as I felt myself get wetter and wetter, the tears came quicker and quicker. I began to hate myself more and more as I responded to her, my hips jerked forward on their own when her speed started to pick up. She would kiss me, and I stopped trying to press my lips together….then I stopped resisting her tongue. She had it pierced, and before I could stop myself I felt my own tongue shyly reach out and touch the little metal ball on the underside. It caused her to gasp a little herself, the first uncontrolled response I had gotten from her yet, and I shuddered involuntarily when it caused her hand to jerk and her fingers to slide just the tiny bit out of me and back in again.
How could this be happening? Why was she humiliating me like this, and why was I responding? Fear still gripped me, her free hand on my thigh a constant reminder, but I had no control over the heat that was spreading from my pussy up my spine…
Her lips left mine, and I knew she was adjusting position by the way her fingers changed inside me. She let them slide out a bit more, and move back in, but the angle suddenly felt deeper and my knees buckled a little when the tips of her fingers hit my g-spot. The hand on my hip was still there, but the weight of it had lightened, almost like she…
“No-o–” I heard myself stutter when I felt the tip of her tongue touch my clit, replacing her thumb. Her response to my word was only to thrust a little roughly, the strength of her arm almost lifting me higher onto my toes. But between the fast little flickers of her tongue and the sudden deep thrusts of her fingers, I could feel an orgasm building, quicker than I could have imagined even under the best of circumstances.
‘No! There’s no way I’m going to cum for her!’ I felt my mind scream, but the heat spreading from my core was a telltale sign. I tried to bite down of my lip hard, to use the pain to distract me, but not even the agony radiating from my chaffed wrists was enough to keep my focus from what she was doing. At some point she sucked my clit into her mouth entirely, gently holding it between her teeth as that tongue that had lashed out at me before ran like a motor over the tiny piece of flesh. ‘Please no…please, I don’t want to…’
With a strangled cry, I came, juices dripping down her fingers almost to her wrist.
I was almost numb with the intensity of it, so I could only shudder when I felt her stand, sliding her fingers out of me. Her hand fell away from my hip, leaving me untouched and shivering, slumped in the restrains without the barest bit of strength to hold myself up. I could feel the walls of my pussy contract over and over as the orgasm subsided, and the shivers down my spine made me jerk helplessly in the bonds. I couldn’t tell where she was- she was completely silent now- but I knew she was watching.
“Please…” Maybe earlier I would have despaired over how fragile my voice sounded, but in the aftermath of what had just happened I could have cared less. I had reached some sort of emotional plateau; I was no longer afraid, only exhausted. I doubted any ‘punishment’ she wanted to exact on me for speaking out of term would have done anything at all; the only things I could feel right now were the twin throbbing of my aching pussy and my strained wrists. I anticipated the hair pull, but didn’t fear it. “Please let me go…”
I waited, too spent physically or mentally to even tense when I felt her get closer, but instead of reaching for my head I felt her stretch her arms up to where the wrist cuffs were. There must have been release latches somewhere higher up than the cuffs, because when she released the first one, I screamed when all my weight was suddenly on my right wrist. Her arm was under one of my armpits though, half holding me up as she undid the second on, and I didn’t even have the strength to feel ashamed when I sagged back against her at the release of the second. If anything, the care and delicacy in which she helped lower me to my knees on the concrete was more disconcerting that any lashing she could have given me then.
She moved away as I knelt there on the ground, trying not to cry out at the renewed agony in my wrists. The cuffs were still around them, and I held my hands out in front of me half in the expectation of being let go and half to let the blood flow back to my fingers start. I must have looked the absolute picture of servitude then, kneeling on the floor with my hands out in a begging posture, blindfolded and my face still all red from the combined embarrassment and arousal. My defiance and confidence hadn’t worked on her before, but maybe my submission would.
But when she finally came back toward me, it wasn’t to unlock the cuffs. Instead her hand buried itself in my hair once more, not roughly but enough to let me know I was going wherever she wanted me to, and when I put out my palms in front of me they landed on her bare thighs. Suddenly knowing she was naked, I could smell her right there by my nose, the smell of female arousal I had memorized since my first girl friend. The sanctity of numbness melted away to fear once again, and her hand on the back of my head ushered me closer and closer.
“I can’t let you go just yet,” came her purr-like whisper. “Not just yet…”