Gregory was unlike any man I had ever met. He was so enthusiastic and full of energy. I found him so exciting, charming and kinky. He was the first man I ever kissed with a ponytail, tattoo and earring, Rolex. I think I was at least as curious about him as I was attracted to him.
He came into the restaurant and enchanted me. He was in town for business and he seemed interested in me.
Michael and I had been struggling in our marriage and I was probably vulnerable to Gregory’s charm when he started flirting with me. I was easy for him. There is a lot of stress in our marriage and I had been fantasizing a lot, sort of escaping the dismal reality of my marriage when I met Gregory.
I really liked talking to Gregory. I was surprised at how much it affected me. It did not take him long before he started talking about bondage. We had not even kissed and he wanted to know if I would let him tie
me up! Before Michael, I had a boyfriend who was into that. That whole bondage thing happened so long ago for me that it seemed like a dream. I had repressed those memories in my life as a mom and wife. Gregory had stirred up those memories like they happened yesterday. I was remembering things I had not thought about in more than ten years.
Gregory wanted me to spend one night with him. He said I liked being tied up. He said he saw it in my eyes. The ankle bracelet and choker around my throat were telltale signs. He could tell. he way he made me feel was quite unlike anyone I have encountered. He just seized control of the conversation. He put me on the defensive. I found myself in the ridiculous position of trying to tell him why I should not agree on the spot to meet him that very night so he could tie me up. I did find it thrilling. Trying to talk with him about letting him tie me up was almost like struggling against ropes tied so tightly I could barely wiggle. It was the only thing he wanted to talk about. He could not understand my reluctance. He told me I was foolish for hesitating. He was insistent, persuasive and charming. I could see why he was such a successful businessman!
He had an answer to all my questions. He made my concerns seem petty and foolish. He acted like any other woman would easily consent to such a thing! He had a way of making it seem so ordinary, like a date. He couldn’t understand my hesitation like I was being unreasonable. At times he seemed impatient and about to give up on me. He thought I was being silly. He assured me he wasn’t a serial killer, that he had been doing this with women for thirty years and he had never had any problems. He told me he had his reputation as a businessman to worry about, too.
“I don’t think there is anything wrong with enjoying a little loss of control and danger, in fact, I think it makes sex more fun and interesting. My feeling is, once you experience that thrill, you never get over the taste for it.
“On the other side, it is also very exciting to inflict one’s will on a subject. Especially if the “victim” is getting a thrill out of it along with showing resistance.”
Gregory was not interested in a relationship. He assured me he wanted something different. The only reason he would want to see me as if he could tie me up and have rough sex one night. He was not interested in seeing me ever again.
After he was done with me he said I could go back to my boring housewife existence. He told me I could grow fat and sloppy, but while I was tied up I belonged to him.
We want back and forth for a week. He would not take no for an answer, but he was impatient for me to say yes. He came into the restaurant every day, called me at home and sent me emails.
“I have done this many times before,” he said. “It is always exciting. The anticipation, the planning,” as he spoke he ran a finger gently along my throat and up to my lips, ” the first meeting, the first gag inserted in an
open willing mouth.”
Gregory’s words rolled around in my head, words like “victim”, “rough sex” and “extreme bondage.” Gregory had made it clear he was into simple sex and bondage, but with him it the sex would be rough and the bondage extreme. He saw me not as a lover, but as a victim.
I was flattered and excited, but I finally had to tell Gregory no. I did not want him thinking I was a tease.
My heart pounded as I walked into the lobby of the Lexington Hotel. The clerks were all very gracious and differential. Everyone seemed so rich and stylish,. Gregory was nowhere to be seen.
The hotel was elegant, all marble, oak and polished brass. Everything about it was luxurious. I tried to act cool and sophisticated, but I felt out of place, a silly suburban soccer mom in the big city. I did not even have
any luggage, just my purse. Everyone else seemed to be from another country. The women were all so elegantly dressed and sophisticated. The men all wore expensive suits and power ties. The clerk was Asian and welcomed me with a heavy accent.
Room 2320 was impressive. It was a suite with two balconies looking down on Lexington Avenue. I listened to the street sounds, the honking of the yellow taxis. The bedroom was luxurious with paintings on the wall, a rich cream cover. The mattress was firm. The pillows were big and fluffy.
This was so crazy! I could not believe I was really doing this.
What had possessed me to agree to meet the man in a hotel room? If I was smart I would leave before he came. But I wasn’t smart. I was excited. I wanted everything to be perfect. This was my big adventure in my routine life.
Gregory was paying for everything and he had selected the Lexington because he thought a lavish hotel room would make me more willing to go through with this crazy adventure. He knew what he was doing. He was
supremely confident he would get me here. I had never met such a persuasive man. He had done this many times with many women are over the world. I hardly had a chance.
He had a silver bucket with two bottles of wine waiting for me in the room. Merlot. My favorite. A dozen roses sat in a vase on the table. He had scented candles set up on the dresser and the bedside tables. The flickering candlelight would add a romantic touch.
I put my purse on one of the end tables. I quickly drank two glasses of the wine to take the edge off my nervousness. I had never done anything like this in my life. My heart was pounding wildly. I took a few deep breaths and tried to relax, waiting for the wine to calm me. I noticed the video camera set up in the corner of the bedroom. It was pointed at the bed: Right where I would be. He had not said anything about that!
I poured another glass of wine and sipped it while I examined myself in the mirror. I had dressed up for this meeting because Gregory said he might take me out to dinner “afterward.” I touched up my mascara and lipstick, freshened my perfume and brushed my hair. The room was chilly and the cold gave me goose bumps.
And I waited.
I was a married woman in a hotel room waiting for a strange man I just met.
Gregory knew all too well the position I was putting myself in. I did not have any options. Whatever happened I could not turn on him because how would I explain my presence in the hotel with this man. It would ruin my marriage, my family, my life.
The risk added to the adventure and heightened my sense of vulnerability. I did have doubts. He had made me promise no one would know of our “date.” I had no idea what was in store for me. He had planned
everything. He had promised me something exciting, but that was all I knew. He was in total control of the situation and of me. He wasn’t even in the room yet, and I was tense, feeling that excited erotic knot growing in my stomach. I was trembling.
When I finally heard the doorknob turn he was more than an hour late and my nerves were totally shot. I held my breath as the door opened slowly. He was tall, almost a foot taller than me, and so handsome and so muscular! He must outweigh me by nearly a hundred pounds. He seemed to be all muscle and testosterone. I was thrilled. My heart was racing.
I gave him a warm smile and poured him a glass of wine, which he gulped down and put the empty glass back on the dresser as he looked me up and down. Nothing in his expression gave me a clue as to what he had planned for me. He did not smile but just looked at me with a stern expression.
“How’s my cunt?” he asked.
“I’m wonderful, love. Now that you are here.”
I did not know what to say or do. I felt awkward. I asked him if he wanted to join me on the sofa and offered to give him a back rub, but he just walked around the room eyeing me intently. He was beginning to scare me
and I watched him warily. I thought maybe we might talk or kiss a little, but he was not interested in talking and he did not bother kissing me.
”I have to know that all your holes are mine to do with what I choose,” he said in a husky voice. “That was our agreement, right. Your body is mine. Right?”
I felt my bravery weaken just a bit.
He made a show of lighting a cigarette, inhaling the smoke so the flame flared briefly. He waved the cigarette in his hand as he gestured..
He had a plastic bag to show me and he dumped the contents out on the bed: There was a tangle of ropes, cords, a roll of duct tape, handcuffs, silk scarves, mean-looking metal clips with sharp jagged teeth and a huge black penis shaped object. It took me a moment to realize what that was and what he intended to do with it. I cringed at the thought. It was impossibly huge. There was no way he could ever get that thing inside me. But from the look in his piercing blue eyes. I could see he would thoroughly enjoy trying.
Gregory was especially proud of the huge black dildo. He told me that I was not going to leave the hotel until he had gotten it inside me. It was impossible! The thing was huge, so much bigger than any man. Its head was bigger than a tennis ball. He said it was a foot long.
He spoke soothingly to me as he undressed me. His gentleness was reassuring. He peeled me out of my brand new black dress and hung it up on the one hanger in the closet. He stripped off my black bra, slip, panties, pantyhose, and pumps and put them neatly into the drawers. I was pleased with the way he handled my clothes, folding my dress neatly and putting them into a drawer. It was going to be ok. He ran his hands along my bare skin, making me shiver. He told me I was beautiful. I watched as he took off his expensive Italian shoes and Armani suit, then, stepping out of his boxer shorts until he was totally naked.
He ran his fingers through my long brown hair, arranging my hair to please him. He kissed the back of my neck, ran a strong finger down my spine, down, down and all the way down to the crack of my ass. It was a delicious sensation. He had a large feather and he moved it ever so lightly over my nakedness, lulling and tranquilizing me. I felt myself relax. The tension drained from my body. The feather was an exquisite sensation. He was an expert.
I had imagined he would go slowly with me, ease into it. He had seemed so considerate of my fears. He stroked my shoulders and back. His hands were big and strong and powerful. He told me to put my arms behind my back. I hesitated. This was a big moment for me. If I let him restrain me, I was totally dependent upon his good nature. I was trembling.
I willingly put my wrists together behind my back and held still while he tied my wrists together with a grey cord. I bit my lip and stared at the floor as Gregory tied his knots tight behind my back. My heart was pounding so. He was behind me, wrapping the cord around my arms above my elbows, pulling it tighter and tighter, cinching it, pinning my elbows behind my back, forcing my shoulders back, arching my back and pressing my breasts out.He gave the knot a sharp tug, clenching my elbows behind my back, making me
wince at the pain. He stood back and looked at me quietly for the longest time.
“I like the look.” His voice was husky and strained. Tying me up was like foreplay for him. It had given him an obvious erection to tie me up.
When I raised my gaze from his erection I was shocked to see most of his face was covered by a black leather hood. Even though I knew who was in there, the hood had a powerful effect over me, giving him an evil, menacing countenance. I was absolutely terrified by the sight of him. I could see his piercing eyes looking at me through holes in the black leather hood. Gregory was transformed into an anonymous hooded stranger with a powerful erection.
My heart was pounding and I was trembling.
The man in the hood was possessed. He grabbed my breasts in each hand and squeezed my marshmallow softness cruelly, making me cry out again. He slapped me. He pinched my nipples hard, then grabbed my face, squeezing my face until my mouth puckered up grotesquely. This was not romantic at all. Gregory had
made no secret that he was into rough sex and that had attracted me, but now I was going to find out what rough sex was really all about. He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked it back, forcing my face up. I was totally helpless. I could not move an inch as this muscular man roughed me up. Tears were streaming down my face. I just knew my mascara was running and my lipstick must be smeared. He poked and prodded me.
Gregory left me sitting there naked on the edge of the bed while he walked around the room, holding his hard cock in his right hand. He checked his video camera.
He gritted his teeth when he talked and he was much meaner than he had ever been before. The sweetness and seductiveness that had gotten me into this hotel room was gone. Yet, the meanness and the menacing way the hooded stranger regarded me was also thrilling. I had wanted an adventure, and he had promised me excitement!
His hands fondled and kneaded my breasts. “Men must love these, don’t they? You like to be touched like this?” He leaned down and gently kissed my nipples, nibbling them gently, then nibbling and sucking at them tenderly. He rolled my nipples between his fingers, calling them my “sweet points.” His saliva coated my breasts, he leaned down and blew softly, coolness, exquisite sensation. He was so attentive. I moaned and sighed with contentment. He was a master of little details, at eliciting responses, pleasure.
Then a sudden, burning pain in my left breast made me gasp. A stainless steel clip was sunk into my delicate nipple. The pain was throbbing. I tried to cry out, but my panties were pushed rudely into my mouth. “I said rough, didn’t I, honey? This is where it gets a bit rough for you.”
He had a second clip in his hand. It had spring tension, jagged teeth, and my eyes widened as he slowly positioned it over my right nipple, holding it there, its steel teeth over my little nipple. Then with a sudden
movement, those teeth bit down into my tender nipple and both nipples were burning. I writhed and twisted in pain against my ropes. This was what interested him. After several moments of intense pain, the burning subsided. A few minutes later, he would twist the clamp or tighten its bite and the pain would be renewed, but stronger. He did that for the longest time. After awhile I wore the clips like jewelry, feeling no pain. My nipples were numb. Then he removed he clamps and I saw the damage done to me. My delicate nipples were dented and crushed and when he took off the clamps, the pains was more intense than ever!
“That is the blood flowing back into your nipples, Julie.”
He knew exactly what he was doing. He kept adjusting, twisting, removing and replacing the clips to keep my nipples burning.
“Any woman who lets a man tie her up deserves whatever she gets.”
Suddenly he was on top of me, straddling my me and holding me down on my stomach with his weight. I was stunned by his unexpected action and cried out. He slapped my face and a light flashed in my head. I was dazed. This was crazy! He did not say anything, but quickly pulled out a rope and tied my ankles separately to the rope binding my wrists. He was very intense as he produced more ropes and began tying my legs up. He rolled me over onto my back and I was totally immobilized. He had the ropes rigged so that I was positioned with my back arched, my breasts forced out by the pressure of the ropes binding my arms behind my back and my legs were bent and spread by the ropes binding my ankles to my wrists. With my panties stuffed in my mouth, I was breathing through my nose.
“You are hogtied, sweetheart.”
Whatever happened to me was totally up to him now. I was certainly in no position to negotiate.
He examined my naked, bound body, pinching my lips, rolling my nipples, kneading my breasts, fingering me. I laid there hogtied, helpless, unable to do more than wriggle against the ropes. He was an expert at tying up women. There was nothing I could do. He pressed a ping-pong ball into my hand and told me if things got more than I could take I could release the ball and he would know I had reached my limit. He studied my naked bound body, fondling me, examining me.
When he made love to me, he pushed me onto my back and pressed his muscular tattooed forearm against my throat, cutting off my breath so that I was gasping beneath him. He was incredibly aroused by helplessness. Then he was finished.
Gregory finally got off me. He walked around the room, checking his video camera and staring at me. He returned to the bed and tightened the ropes even more, making the ropes dig into my wrists and ankles, cutting off my circulation. After the shock of his attack wore off a bit I began to think about the seriousness of my situation. No one knew where I was or who I was with. I was in a strange motel, tied up by naked by a man who could just as easily kill me as kiss me and no one would ever know.
I could do nothing, but bite my lip as he reached down between my legs. I closed my eyes and tensed my body as I felt his hand on my vagina, his fingers probing, exploring me until he found what he was looking for and gave my delicate clit, a painful, twisting pinch. I was sobbing. He was pleased, enjoying my
torment. This was more than I bargained for. I cried for him to let me go.I would make love to him, suck his cock. I was so sorry. I could not go through with it.
”Too late, cunt,” he laughed.
He waved the cigarette in my face, so close I could feel its heat. He laughed when I flinched. He held the cigarette barely above my vagina, holding it against my pubic hair watching it burn away a delicate curl.
“I’d never thought about putting a butt out in someone’s belly button until now, but it seems like it would be a thrill. The idea of the slow approach with the woman able to see how close the heat is getting to her would be great. Of course, the subject would need to be tightly restrained to avoid missing the target as she struggled to escape the inevitable. Do you think you will plead during those last long seconds before contact? I imagine you will.
“There are all sorts of ways to play out the same game, fear and resistance followed by acceptance which don’t cause physical harm like a burn. The idea of leaving a lasting mark of the event, however, is exciting
in itself, don’t you think?”
I shook my head no, trying to see his eyes through the holes in his hood.
He pushed my wadded panties deeper into my mouth.
He pressed the cigarette lightly against my belly button, holding it there, burning me. The pain was excruciating. I wriggled, but could do nothing to escape the burning cigarette. It was real torture. I wanted to
scream and I whimpered through my panties, but he held the cigarette there so that it continued burning me. Then he pressed the cigarette down hard against my belly button, putting it out on me. The damage was done. That would leave a scar, but that was his intention. Something to remind me of him.
As I laid on that sumptuous bed in my grotesque hogtied position, Gregory waved that hideous black dildo in my face, laughing at my reaction as I flinched and tried to twist away from it. He rubbed it against my skin,
making me shiver as he moved it along my legs, my belly, my breasts.
He raised the huge dildo above his head, holding it with both hands. Our eyes met and he gave me a confident, menacing smile as he slowly lowered it. I felt the mammoth head pressing against my vagina. He rubbed it up and down along my slit. He continued to look me in the eyes as he leaned his weight down heavily, pressing it down into me with the force of his two hundred pounds. His weight pressed me against the mattress. He lunged down, never breaking eye contact with me. I winced and cried, but he kept pressing. It wasn’t going in. No matter how hard he pushed, it was just too big and I was too tight. It would never fit.
He did not kiss me, but he bit into my throat. He bit down on my tender breasts, clamping this teeth cruelly into my nipple and twisting. I was bruised and bleeding from the biting.
When he was done, he got off the bed and walked away. I assumed he would untie me, but he left me tied up in bed while he took a shower. He closed the bedroom door and called room service.
When he came back to the bedroom Gregory was fresh and strong. His cock was like iron.I felt his cock spasm with a special intensity and his come stung and burned my insides.
I held tight to the ping-pong ball, fighting the urge to relax my grip and call it off.
When he grabbed that huge black dildo and brought it down between my legs, I did not tense up or cry out. I just laid there and waited.
As I felt its huge bluntness filling me up tears blurred my vision. The pain was searing when it penetrated me. Then an intense overwhelming sensation of fullness. I felt like I would pass out.
And still he was not through with me. He doubled up his fist menacingly.When the dildo was out he began finger fucking me. At first it was his middle finger, then three fingers, then he worked in the fourth, then I felt him pushing his thumb into me. “We’re almost there.” I bit into my gag and waited.
I looked down to see the unbelievable sight of his whole hand disappearing into me. I felt the intense sensation of blunt fullness, as he worked his hand deeper and deeper into me, inch by inch, until his hand was inside me up to his wrist. I gasped with the uncomfortable sensation as he doubled his fist up, filling me up. He was practically up to the elbow inside of me. Moving his fist in and out, up and down. I felt myself stretching to accommodate him. I knew I would never be the same again.
I dropped the ping-pong ball, but it bounced on the floor, ignored.
He kept me an extra day. He would not let me use the phone. He told me he was confident I would make up a story for my husband, but he did not care what it was. That was my problem. He said this was part of my adventure. He was rougher the second day. I got hungry, but he would not let me eat. He kept me tied to the bed. When I cried he slapped me and put the gag back into my mouth.
One time he had me brace myself against the wall while he drizzled hot candle wax down my back and ass, bringing the candle closer to my skin so the wax was hotter and the pain more intense as he made reddish designs on my skin.
I laid in bed savoring the delicious ache of my bruises. I was actually proud of my burn. I studied it. A gift from a wonderful, exciting man. I treasured the pain and hoped the scar would be there a lifetime.
When I got home I sent him a beautiful card, thanking him for the experience. I called him a few weeks later, but he said he would not see me again, that it was going to be a one-time thing just like we agreed.
I miss him.
