(5/2/01)
She's been in a fairly boring business seminar all day long, daydreaming, doodling, only a small percentage of her brain engaged by the business at hand. The seminar has been held next door to a beautiful old slightly run-down hotel, and she had decided to stay there rather than a mile away at the Hilton where most of the other people are staying, because she has a passion for old places with character. She leaves the seminar tired, thinking about what she'll do to entertain herself for the evening.
She steps into the creaky old elevator at her hotel, and a man steps in with her. She recognizes him from the seminar, nods hello, and wonders why someone like him would be staying there. He's looking her up and down, but she's pretty used to this in the world of men where she works. She's wearing a black wool suit, with a mid-calf straight skirt, a red silk blouse under the fitted black jacket, and a black scarf around her neck. She tries hard to dress "corporate," but people still often tell her she dresses "sexy." She looks back boldly at him in the mirror on one wall of the elevator, sure that he'll look away when he realizes she can see him. He doesn't look away at all, but rather locks her eyes in a stare that makes her slightly nervous.
"I've been watching you all day," he tells her. She's not sure what to make of this, and tries to laugh it off, turning to face him and get a better look.
"Turn back around like you were," he orders her, and for some odd reason she does this. He's moved closer to her, and his hands are on her shoulders. From the full glimpse she caught of him, both in the elevator and earlier today, she can see that he's fairly attractive in a dark, brooding sort of way, rather tall, broad shoulders, dark mustache, wearing an expensive looking suit. She's not the least bit interested in picking up some man, since she's completely committed to her lover back home. She squirms out from under his hands and starts to introduce herself, ready to find out just who this man is and why he's here.
The elevator shudders to a stop, and she realizes he's pushed the emergency button. She waits for the alarm, but there is no sound in the old building, just silence, and his hands are back on her shoulders, hard this time.
"I know your name, Serena. I've asked around about you today, and know everything I need to know about you. I know that many men consider you a tease because you look so sexy and don't come through. I know that every man in that room would be glad to fuck you, but they can't quite figure out how to get to you. I also know exactly what you need."
Serena tries to joke her way out of this again, because she considers herself an expert at warding off unwanted passes from men. She tries to tell him she's involved, she's tired, she's flattered, and really wants him to restart the elevator, but he pays no attention to her words. She finds herself unable to move while she's chattering, and his hands are running up the sides of her face, through her hair, holding her face straight toward the mirror, with a force that is beginning to scare her.
"You like the force, don't you Serena?" he asks. "I've watched you all day, crossing and uncrossing your legs with that slit in your skirt that shows half your thigh, smiling to yourself and writing, obviously not thinking about business. I think you spend a lot of time dreaming about sex, don't you, a lot of time imagining all the ways you need to be fucked. You just need a man who can do it right. Tell me, Serena," he asks, his eyes boring into her, "does this make you wet?"
She's speechless, her mind is spinning, considering who this man is, what he's saying, how to get out of here, how she got here in the first place, and what to say to relax him. She also notices that she is indeed getting wet from this frightening talk, but she'll be damned if she'll admit it to him. "Of course not,",she responds in her best cold, disinterested voice. At those words, he reaches down and yanks up her skirt over her hips, sliding his hand hard and fast over her garters and into her panties, grabbing her pussy hard enough to make her cry out, feeling her dampness on his hand. She's struggling now, trying to push him away, but he grabs her by her long hair and holds her firmly in place.
"Don't lie to me Serena," he says as he pinches her cunt before withdrawing his hand. "It will only make it worse." She's really scared now, and tries to get away, to start the elevator, to get out any way she can. He grabs her wrists behind her back and uses his tie to tie them tightly together. She's forced up against the wall as his hands run over her stockings and her garters, scratching her, pinching her, stroking her ass. She's starting to think that maybe she's going to have to passively fuck him just to get out of there. The more she tries to use words on him, the more it seems to anger him.
"Bend over," he orders her, pushing her down forcefully. She hears the ripping of material as he tears away her panties, and feels his hands rough on her ass. "We have a long night ahead of us, Serena," he tells her, "and I need to get you ready for it." He removes a plug from his pocket and shoves it in her ass, and she cries out, realizing that he is prepared for this, and that it's not a random encounter. "I want your ass ready for me Serena, you're a slut and you need to be treated like one." He stands her back up, pulling down her skirt, and starts the elevator up again. She's shaking, and he's standing back and watching her with a slight smile, knowing that she's waiting for the doors to open and to try and escape.
The elevator stops on the 8th floor where her room is, but he grabs her bound wrists tightly and she can't move at all as she watches the doors close back up. They reach the 12th floor, and just before the doors open he removes her black scarf and ties it around her mouth, gagging her. Surely there will be someone in the hallway, she thinks, but it is deserted, she can't cry out, and no one can see her, as he walks her down the hall by wrapping his fist in her hair and guiding her. They reach his room, and he shoves her inside, bolting the door, pressing her against the wall immediately, removing her gag, and kissing her hard. She's trying to avoid the kiss, but finds herself at some point kissing him back, feeling overwhelmed by the sensation. He stops when she does this, and slaps her face.
"You love it, don't you Serena. You don't even know who I am, and you're dying for me to fuck you hard, aren't you? You are a total slut. Answer me, Serena, are you dying for me to fuck you?"
"No," she cries out, and he slaps her again, leaving a bright red mark on her cheek.
"Your cunt is soaking wet and your eyes are on fire, Serena," he tells her quietly, "and the only part of your body saying no is your fake words. You're going to beg me to fuck you before the night is over." He unties her hands from behind her back, taking her completely by surprise. "Oh, yes, my dear, I want you to feel totally at home here. Take off your jacket and walk across the room for me so I can watch you."
She moves away from him slowly, feeling the plug in her ass, and the tenderness of her wrists. She stands across the room from him, near the window, trying to assess the room and the situation, realizing that they're on one of the deserted floors of the hotel, and that only her wits might get her out of there.
"Turn and face me, slut. Take your blouse off , now," he commands her. She stares back at him defiantly, deciding to bluff her way out of this.
"You know, uh, what is your name?...there is someone waiting for me for dinner, and he'll be looking for me soon." He just laughs, and tells her she doesn't need to know his name, she'll know what to call him soon enough.
"Don't lie, Serena, I know you're here all alone, and we have all night. Now, last chance, take your blouse off."
She can't move, she's frozen to the spot at the sound of his voice. He strides over to her, grabs the front of her blouse, and rips it off of her . She sees the glint of a small knife flash from his pocket, as he begins to carefully shred her beautiful red blouse into pieces, watching her as he does this. When she protests, he runs the knife edge slowly up her abdomen and under her bra, and she takes a deep breath out of fear. He cuts her bra off of her, and tears it into several pieces also. "You won't be needing these anymore," he informs her, as she stands shaking , with her breasts completely bare to him.
"Put your hands behind your neck and don't move them again," he orders her, and she obeys, trembling. His hands move down over her breasts, pinching her nipples hard, causing her to cry out.
"Do you want me to fuck you, Serena?" he asks.
"No," she murmurs, and his hand comes forward and slaps one of her breasts.
"Do you want me to fuck you, Serena?" he repeats.
She knows she should say yes, but all she can murmur is "No."
He slaps her other breast, harder this time. "Last time, slut, do you want me to fuck you?"
"No," she shouts, turning to get away from him. He grabs her wrists and pulls her over to the bedpost, tying her hands above her head to it with pieces of her own red silk shredded blouse.
"If you kick, Serena, your feet will be tied too. Now, watch. I want you to look down and watch me."
She looks down at herself and sees that her nipples are hard and erect. Then he starts to slap her breasts with his bare hand, slowly at first, then harder, building up a rhythm, and she's lost in it, lost in the pain, lost in her helplessness. After every few slaps, he'll pause and ask her, "Do you want me to fuck you Serena? All you have to do is say yes, and I'll stop." But she's unable to give in to him, and he continues to slap her breasts while she watches, seeing the red marks rising...
"Serena" often comes at this point while dreaming, long before the rest of the clothes are off, or at least she comes for the first time...
He stops, and brings out a pair of small gold clamps, and snaps them on her still-erect nipples. She screams as he snaps them on her tender nipples, but then feels an intense rush of pleasure straight down to her cunt. She looks away from him quickly, trying to keep this flush of pleasure from showing on her face. He leaves her standing and brings a glass of wine over to her, holding it to her lips, feeding her, almost gently. He lets some of the wine dribble down on to her breasts, and lowers his tongue to lick it off, pressing against her soreness, circling the clamps, licking softly and then harder.
He steps back to look at her for a minute, still tied with her hands over her head to the bedpost. Then he steps forward with the knife again, and slowly runs it up the front of her beautiful black wool skirt, tearing it in two to the sound of her almost-pleased gasp. The skirt falls away, and she stands bare before him, her long legs covered in only her red garters and dark stockings, her soft black suede boots reaching to her knees, her long dark hair brushing gently against her tender breasts.
"Look at you, Serena, you look like a whore. Only a whore would dress like that beneath these worthless business clothes." He tosses the torn skirt aside, and she's starting to feel deep inside just how helpless she is here, with no clothes, no escape. He unties her hands from the bedpost, and she almost collapses from the relief. But the feeling is momentary, as he moves the tie down to her ankles and ties them tightly together, now leaving only her hands free.
"Touch your clit, Serena," he orders her, but she finds she can't obey. "You need to start obeying me, slut, you're just making this harder on yourself." She can't even find any words, she feels frozen in fear and in some mild pleasure that scares her even more. "Let's talk about what you really want, what a slut like you really needs." His words and his constant use of her name are more powerful to her than even his slaps. "What is it you fantasize about all day long, sitting there in your sexy red garters? How much you need to be fucked? How you belong flat on your face with a cock up your ass? What is it, Serena?"
She sees him standing before her, removing his shirt, and his belt, and she needs to stop this somehow, she needs to get some control back. She's always in control in her life, and she's going to find a way around this, she's not going to give into what he's saying, or to her own feelings. She stands carefully with her ankles tied and slides her hand down and begins to stroke her clit without saying a word, obeying him, watching to see if this keeps him satisfied for a while.
"Good slut," he says, but he never wavers in his control. She can feel her own wetness, and it amazes her. "Now keep your hand there, and turn around and bend over, Serena," he orders. She can't bring herself to do it. He waits. Their eyes lock, and she waits to see what will happen, never moving her hand from her pussy, trying to keep the fear off of her face. A moment passes, and then she hears the sound of the belt at the same time she feels it, stinging sharp against her hand on her pussy, forcing her hand away from it with the pain.
"Bend over, now."
She still stands frozen, and he walks over and grabs her by her long hair, shoving her body over the armchair, raising her ass in the air, pausing to force the plug more tightly up her ass. He ties her hands to the lower legs of the chair, and she is unable to move, but she struggles not to cry out. He leans down and kisses her hard on the lips, biting them, and whispers in a very soft voice, "Serena, you are mine."
The first sting of the belt on her bottom makes her wince, and the next blow brings tears to her eyes. "Say 'thank you Master,' he orders her as the belt lands. She struggles to try and say this through her tears, giving in finally after many blows, murmuring, "Thank you Master." And he stops. She feels him remove the plug from her ass, and the force of his cock take its place, penetrating her, with his hands on her hot red cheeks, fucking her hard, shaking the chair with each deep stroke. He comes violently inside her ass, running his fingernails down her back sharply as he does.
As she lies in a daze, still draped across the chair, he gently unties her ankles, removes her boots and stocking and garters, and then unties her arms. She collapses to the floor beside where he stands, and he holds her up by her hair and whispers, "Serena, you belong to me. Kiss my feet."
She has no power left, no will, no control, and she bends and kisses his feet. He lets go of her hair, and picks her up gently, carrying her to the soft bed, tucking her under the covers, and she fades into sleep, barely noticing the feel of her wrists and ankles being tied securely to the bed, with no idea of what awaits her next.
At this point in the dream, "Serena" often veers off in some extreme direction; sometimes she ends up having her pussy shaved, sometimes her nipples pierced, sometimes there is another man who gets involved, sometimes a dog...but always with the man from the elevator in charge...and the orgasms she gets from this "rape-fantasy" are unlimited.
