Red

[shelley]

The blindfold is so tight that it keeps my eyelids shut. When he lifts my arms above me they don't feel like my arms. And, yet, I feel the sharp pain when he ties the leather belt around my wrists. I instinctively curl my fingers into a fist to test the give of my bondage. Suddenly I am afraid. I start breathing harder. I become aware of how my breasts must look with every rise and fall of my chest.

"Wait," I whisper. I am shaking and I feel cold.
"No waiting," he replies.

A hand lunges for my throat. I scream and kick but the hand on my neck is firm. He lets me kick him and struggle until I calm down. I start crying. I am terrified to the point of incoherence. I start to beg, please. What ever made me think this was a good idea?

****

We met over a year ago at the symphony. I was upset and alone. I had a fight with my boyfriend at the hotel and decided to go to the music hall by myself. They were my tickets anyway. On one side was an empty seat. He sat on the other side of me. It was obvious he had also come alone. He was young, blond and very tall in the velvet seat. He had to be a student because he was wearing corderoy pants with a chain attached to his wallet, black boots, and layered t-shirts. As opposed to my little black dress spun from silk, fingernails chanel red and lips to match. He was reading a book on Hannibal's military stratagem.

He caught me reading the jacket of his book. I looked away embarrassed.

"I'm Andrew," he said.

I introduced myself, apologized for staring.

"Is that for class?" I asked.

"No, a hobby, more like.." he smiled.

He was in his final year of law school. He had a pleasant face and he was kind but even then something about him was overwhelming. After the performance he invited me to coffee. Within a month I had moved to New York permanently. The great thing about being an artist is that you can live anywhere.

*****
I feel something hard press between my legs. I try to clamp my thighs shut but end up hugging his torso with my legs.

"Wait," I pant, "stop."

He shoves something in my mouth roughly. I roll my tongue under the cloth and it tastes like me. They are my panties. I remember the right word a second too late.

"Red!" I scream, "red!" but my pleas are muffled by my own underwear. He pushes all the way into me and I am not ready. The pain makes my cheeks warm and sticky from a fresh stream of tears.

"Tight," he says in my ear. I start crying aloud. I try to pull myself up and away from him by my arms but I don't have the strength. I just end up bruising my wrists further. He starts fucking me dry. I have never heard him make the noises he is making now any other time we had had sex. He's enjoying this. He is holding down my pelvis by pressing hard on my lower belly with his hand. It keeps me from moving so his thrusts get deeper. I stop screaming so I can focus on taking deep breaths through my nostrils. I'm afraid I'll choke.

"Scream," he demands calmly.

I shake my head, no. But before I can protest further he slaps me hard. I scream, RED! Stop. Please stop, you're really hurting me--

He can't hear me.

"Do you know how your stomach looks when you're screaming? I see the movement of your diaphram and the clench and release of your muscles on the contours of your skin. The sight gives me unimaginable pleasure."

He starts bruising and sucking my breasts. He's creating marks on m skin. With every thrust he gets hard and larger. My small body stretches in an effort to accomodate but he is simply too large. He was always too large for me but this was unbearable. I already feel the ache on my inside and my inner thighs are tender from him ramming his body against mine.

I sob, why is he doing this to me?

He turns me over. Now the leather belt is twisted and almost drawing blood. I'm on my knees. My behind and my sex are fully exposed to the open air. He grabs a fist full of my hair and yanks my head up so that my neck is fully exposed. He bites into my shoulder. My hair is slippery so he readjusts by wrapping the strands around his fingers and tangling it.

"Sometimes I want to eat you alive," He groans.

I scream. He smacks my ass until I feel the sharp burn of bright red welts across my bottom. He holds my hips with both hands and starts violating me again, pulling me against him. As he starts regaining rhythm I just give up and go limp. He reaches out and scratches down my back. I snap up to attention with a yelp.

"Tighten up your cunt for me, I'm not done yet." I start crying again, I am so exhausted. My whole body's aching; psychologically I'm a mess. I'm being assaulted on all fronts and there is no retreat. Finally he pulls out and turns me back over. He drags out the underwear from my mouth. I gasp. I think it must be over. He blows himself all over my face. Some of it gets into my nose and mouth. I feel it start to drip off my chin. I can hear him breathe.

He unties my wrists and takes off the blind fold. "Thank you," he coos, kissing me on the eyelids.

When I open my eyes, he realizes what happened. I start crying and pull the covers up to cover myself.

"Fuck fuck," he bundles me up in the blankets and leaves the room. He comes back with some water and painkillers.

"I'm sorry," he pines," I'm so sorry. I thought this is what you said you wanted. Why didn't you use the safe word?"

"I was scared," I start, "I forgot... it was so real, I--"

"I'm sorry," he looks truly upset. "You were really into character at the beginning so I thought--"

"Andrew," I say. He looks at me, ready to say anything.

"Andrew, you like hurting me." It isn't as much a question as confirmation.

He looks away, "Yes."

*****
After I moved to New York everything was like a dream. It was very obvious Andrew loved me and I loved him. But towards the end of the first year I began to realize he rarely touched me or initiated sex without me prompting him. Even during sex, he was hesitant and restrained. Even when he came, he would masturbate again on his own, after. So finally today after a shower I sat by him on the couch where he was writing briefs.

"Hey," I kissed him and cuddled against him so he put his arm around me. He looked up and put down his work.

"I've been wanting to do something different. Would you think less of me if it is something... unconventional?"

"No," he replied. Of course he wouldn't. He was always open to me. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to take control," I said coyly, "tie me up, blindfold me, rough me up a bit. I want you to do whatever you want to do to me, despite me. You know, take me."

"Is that what you really want?" He seemed hesitant.

"I know, it's weird," I backed off. But he leaned in and started to kiss me and touch me under my robe. I giggled, thinking I had finally got him to open up a little.

"We need a safe word," he said.

"Safe word?"

"So that if you want me to stop, I stop," He started touching my lips with his fingertips. I felt so wanted.

"Stop?" I said, "why would I want you to stop. If I scream or fight Im just playing along." I sucked his fingertips. They felt good on my tongue.

"Well," he said, "I'd feel better if you had one. Something simple that you wouldn't say in a situation like this."

"Safeword. If I want you to stop...red means stop. So, how about red?"

"That's a good one," he said," a good standard word. It makes things clearer."

He started pulling down my panties, I touched his hand, "I want to start in the bedroom," I said. "Tie me up first. We'll play stranger."

*****
"I'm sorry," he repeats," I should have been more thorough."

I am still wrapped up in blankets. He holds me between his legs and in his arms tight so my back is to his chest.

"I wanted this," I sob," because I thought you wanted this but I didn't know you wanted, well, this."

I am no longer making sense. He keeps apologizing and hugging me tighter. He pulls a bath for me. We wash together. He is gentler than ever. The only reason, I tell myself, that I can look at him now is because I was blindfolded the whole time and did not see him do those things to me with my own eyes. Even though I could smell him. The scent is always around me on the sheets when I sleep, the closet where I keep my clothes and inside me...

I shiver. He turns the hot water on to warm the bath near scalding. He is holding me again back to chest. He keeps me to him so tight as if he were responsible for keeping my limbs together.

"How long," I don't know how to put the question, "how long have you been like this?"

His arms around my midriff being to relax, "For as long as I can remember. Even when I was little playing doctor with the neighbor girl. Once I hurt her and scared her. I never talked to her again. She couldn't understand why I hated her, wondered what she did etc. I didn't hate her. The opposite in fact. But I was angry and confused. I'd always been careful with girlfriends after that but never fully satisfied. I tried escort services--"

I look at him, inquisitively.

"Some people specialize in these kinds of... fantasies. I tried looking into the small sex communities, too, but I never found a partner I liked outside of the sex. It was hard but I decided to just keep my thoughts to myself. You can't believe how surprised and happy I was when you brought it up to me today. I thought maybe you were holding back, too. But it was all a misunderstanding. It won't happen again ever, I promise." he sighs and kisses me on the temple, "could you ever forgive me?"

I kiss his hand and put his arm back around me because I honestly love him but...

I don't know what to do.


MORAL OF THE STORY: GET YOUR SHIT STRAIGHT WITH YOUR PARTNER BEFORE DOING THIS KIND OF ROLE PLAY, BOYS AND GIRLS.

THANK YOU.