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Old 05-31-2013, 11:48 PM   #1
roped_wrists
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Default The Bodunk Motel

Hi! I'm pretty awkward with introductions which is why I skipped that whole bit altogether. I figured instead of an introduction I'd say hello to RB with something I'm better at--writing stories! It's not much, just something I threw together in response to the guilt I was feeling about not having written anything in a while. Still, I think it turned out okay. And of course, it's 100% fiction. Enjoy

The Bodunk Motel

"Get in there bitch!"

"Mmmph!" I squeal into the tape as a calloused palm shoves me through the seedy motel room door. My sneakers thud softly against the filthy, stained carpet as I stumble to a halt. The man in the black ski mask slams the door behind us, the sound of the deadbolt sliding over like a gunshot in the darkness. Fingers clamp down on the back of my neck.

"Make one move, make one sound, and I'll cut your throat before you have the chance to scream. The walls in this shithole are paper thin and I'm not getting in a standoff with the cops over some sorority bitch like you."

With knees like jelly I stand erect, feigning fearlessness, as my kidnapper switches on the lights and sets to work. He's come prepared. He crosses the room, tossing his duffel bag onto the bed, and strolls into the bathroom to take a piss. He doesn't bother closing the door behind him.

I survey the room. It's a typical five star hole-in-the-ground. The ceiling and walls bear dark brown water stains and the carpet looks like a breeding ground for all kinds of interesting life. The bed is neatly made but the covers appear as though they would glow like Christmas under a blacklight. From what I can see of the bathroom, the tiles are mostly cracked and broken. Classy establishment.

Environment notwithstanding, I have a moment to myself and I'm not going to lose it. I've been rolling around in the back of a van under my kidnapper's watchful eye for the better part of an hour and now that his attention is elsewhere, I can finally get a clear idea as to just how fucked I really am.

The handcuffs keeping my hands behind my back seem legit--they aren't the usual cheap ones you'd win at a carnival prize booth. The nice part about laying on my side in the back of a van is that I'd been able to run my fingers along the cuffs in search of any weaknesses or failsafes, of which there were none. My kidnapper isn't taking any chances. The duct tape over my mouth is your average duct tape--pretty adhesive, but not foolproof. If it was just one strip stretching from cheek to cheek I'd be able to open my jaw and pop the glue loose, and then dislodge the tape with my tongue. The trouble is, it's one long strip wrapped around my head multiple times; even after an hour's work the gag is still doing its job.

I watch my kidnapper exit the bathroom and unzip the duffel bag. He pulls out a large sheet of plastic, which he unrolls and lays across the bed. "Get over here."

Without waiting for a response he crawls off the bed, grabs me by the elbow, and tosses me onto the bed. I go sprawling across the mattress, the plastic crinkling under my weight, the handcuffs rattling as I make a vain attempt to get my hands out in front of me. Before I have a chance to kick he spins around, pinning my ankles.

"I've never had a cute little schoolgirl before," my kidnapper growls as he begins untying my sneakers.

Okay, so he didn't quite read me as well as he could have. Well, except for the 'little' part; I'm 5'5''. And even then I'm not little, I'm petite. As for schoolgirl, not quite. For the four years I'd attended Sussex High, I'd never gone out of my way to don the school colors--brown and crimson. Mainly because the school colors were ugly as sin. When spirit week rolled around during my senior year and it was announced that Wednesday would be clash day, I'd decided to make some waves. So I donned the school colors--essentially the same outfit that all the other girls would be wearing on Friday for the pep rally--consisting of a brown plaid skirt and crimson sleeveless shirt. I'd gotten my point across--just about every prep in the place had given me a dirty look over the course of the day, and the rest were too ditzy to realize what I was saying---but now the joke is over and the outfit is giving off the wrong impression: that I'm a schoolgirl. Well, a barefoot schoolgirl now.

Both of my shoes tumble to the ground, followed by my socks. My kidnapper spins around and claws at the waistband of my skirt and panties, pulling them down and off my feet. In a moment of panic I roll over, kicking wildly. Being barefoot in front of a stranger is one thing; being bare-assed requires at least three dates.

"Knock it off!" My assailant seizes my feet and drags them over to the duffel bag,producing a second pair of handcuffs and snapping them around my ankles. "Now you fucking lay here," he growls, straddling my thighs and grabbing my by the mouth, "and quit acting up. This is happening one way or another."

Wide-eyed I stare up at him. His eyes, like two fiery brown gemstones set against the black velvet of his ski mask, convey the utmost of seriousness. Despite the handcuffs biting into my tailbone as I lay atop them, I lay completely still, trembling uncontrollably.

Without a further word he grabs my shirt and tears it open, clawing it away like a hyena tearing at the skin of a zebra. After shredding my bra, my kidnapper takes a step back and surveys his handiwork.

I lay buck naked before him, manacled hand and foot. My long, tanned legs lead to the pale y-crease of my clenched thighs which is crowned with a thin strip of neatly-trimmed pubic hair. My toned stomach rises and falls with my ragged breathing and my nipples are pink nubs against my heaving breasts, which are highlighted by a distinctive bikini-top tanline. My bright blue, bloodshot eyes are wide and the heat of the room causes my body to glisten with sweat and strands of my long brown hair cling to my forehead in angled hooks. He fishes a small key from his pocket and unlocks my ankles. "Spread your legs."

Definitely getting into post third-date territory here. I make no move to open my thighs, especially when I watch him strip off his own clothes. He's covered in sweat too, his rock hard abs gleaming in the dull yellow light. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one smooth motion, revealing his semi-erect penis. He kicks off his shoes and crawls onto the bed, straddling my legs.

"I'm gonna get nice and hard for you." As he lowers his sweaty, bare body atop mine his cock comes to a rest in the indentation of my clenched thighs and his gaping mouth finds my breast. He suckles hungrily, switching back and forth between them, his cock growing against my thighs and releasing a steady stream of precum. "I'm only doing this to keep you from suffocating," he grunts, grabbing me by the hair and unwrapping the duct tape. "Make a sound and you're done."

The tape leaves my face with a steady riiiiip sound and I gasp for air. My kidnapper leans over and smells my crotch, pushing his nose between my thighs like a curious dog, parting the skin with his fingers. "Fresh and strong," he remarks, moving to the end of the bed.

The whole ordeal was like a dream. One minute I'm walking home from school with a detention slip (one of the preps hadn't found my mockery of the school colors funny, and I'd felt it necessary to kick her ass. It was worth it) and the next I'm in the Bodunk motel, buck naked and being subjected to surprise bondage sex. Talk about life throwing curve balls.

"Open." My kidnapper lifted my feet and coiled his fingers around them, digging his fingernails into the soft undersides. I grit my teeth, trying to avoid the urge to kick--or worse yet, laugh. Nevertheless he's persistent, bending my toes back and running the tip of his tongue along the balls of my feet until the sensation finally weakens my legs enough for him to pry them open. He turns around and falls between my legs, aiming his straining hard-on straight at my pussy. "Fuuuck..."

"Ummmph! Nnnnn!" In one smooth move, my kidnapper grips my hair and shoves his lips onto mine and pushes his tongue into my mouth. At the same time he forces his dick inside me, the combination of sweat and precum creating a natural lubricant allowing it to slide deep into my protesting passage. He drives fully inside me and hesitates for a moment, luxuriating in the sensation of himself nestled deep in my warm pussy, and then withdraws for another jab.

"Uhhhm! Nmnnn!" My cries go stifled by the hollow cavern of my rapist's hot mouth. I open my eyes long enough to look around but there's nothing that can help me--even if there was, it would be impossible to get to, with my hands manacled and the man's full weight atop me.

The one saving grace is that it doesn't last long. Maybe he's saved himself for me, or maybe he's just passionate about raping eighteen-year-olds. It takes only a few short minutes of him pinning me to the mattress and pistoning in and out of me before his cock begins to lurch and twitch. He bites hard on my bottom lip and arches sharply, jamming his full length inside me. My rapist detonates, firing string after string of hot, syrupy ejaculate into my loins.

Finally, panting, he collapses atop me. As I open my mouth to speak, he clamps his calloused palm over it. Wide-eyed, with tears dribbling down my cheeks, I look at him. His breath is hot and moist as he rasps into my ear:

"We're not done yet. I can think of better uses for that mouth."
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Old 06-01-2013, 10:13 AM   #2
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As introductions go, I think this is a pretty good one. +rep
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