Oh well this ticks a WHOLE LOT of boxes.
consensual nonconsent
Disclaimer: The following is a fantasy and not a genuine threat. Were we to carry this out, it would involve consenting people, proper protection and a ton of precautions.
Months ago, Flint and I were hanging around on my couch. He was choking me a little bit, holding my throat until I started to get genuinely scared and tried to buck him off of me. As panicked I would get each time he cut my breath, I kept asking for more until it was finally, maybe, a little too much.
“Tell me something scary,” I said, accepting that as a substitute. “I want you to scare me.”
Flint smiled and smoothed some of my hair off of my forehead. “The first time I fuck you, it’s going to be rape,” he replied, voice calm and even and maybe a little condescending.
“How?” I chuckled. “You can’t rape me if I want to fuck you.”
He shrugged. “Well, I’ll just come in while you’re asleep. You’ll wake up to the sound of duct tape being torn off the roll. I’ll have a few friends come along to help hold you down, and I’ll let them have you afterwards as a thanks for the favor.” He patted my cheek. “What do you think of that? Maybe I’ll get enough people to come that we’ll double your number that night alone.”
I stared at him, speechless.
“Think of that, love, half of a decade of sexual activity doubled in one night,” he grinned. “And all of it against your will.”
I shook my head, “you couldn’t do that.”
He shrugged, “if you say so.”
Some nights, I catch myself wondering whether or not to lock the deadbolt on my door.
I have a bag of old clothes that are a little too messed up (with paint, with bleach, etc) to donate.
They’re kind of begging for a certain form of special treatment.
Re: consensual nonconsent
ChatSir: Well, you’re just asking for it.
Me: How am I asking for it?
Me: Besides specifically asking you for it.
I don’t know what you’re talking about, dear. The door was locked. No one came in here last night.
Remember the last time you imagined you were being raped in your sleep? It must be your needy little cunt and your silly head acting up again.
You’re not even trying to get better, are you? You’ll have to spend another night in the straitjacket. You can have your masturbation privileges back when you show us you really want to improve.
So maybe we’ve totally actually played this out before.
(Note: The scenario was played in a totally consensual context involving safewords and aftercare.)
Trapped, Part 6
When Switch returned, I heard a crack beside me, a hollow noise, and then the click of something being set down beside me on the bedside table. I groaned around my panties and tilted my head to the side, despite being unable to see what he was doing anyway. He pulled my panties from my mouth and said, “I’ve got a little surprise for you, give it a kiss.” Something cold touched my mouth and my eyes widened behind the blindfold when the felt the cool water drip down my lips. It was an ice cube.
He moved the ice cube away from my mouth. It was a hot night and it was dripping fast. He positioned it over my back and let the freezing drops hit my skin for a few moments before running it right down my spine. I gasped hard, my body stiffened, my hands clenched into fists. As he circled it around my shoulder blades, I was torn between trying to move myself closer to it and trying to avoid the chill that burned down to my bones.
He moved it down to my tailbone and let go of it, allowing it to slide between my buttocks, over my slit, onto my clit, then down to what I now had deduced was a towel between me. He did it over and over as I gasped, squealed, begged, moaned, and squirmed fruitlessly. I cried out as he rubbed the last little sliver of it against my clit until it melted. The pain was indescribably intense, yet unbearably erotic. I knew I was soaked.
He wiped his hand on my ass and chuckled, “ready for number two, baby?"
I braced myself as I heard the crack of another cube being removed from the tray.
Trapped, Part 5
It felt like an hour had passed by the time I heard the door opening. I strained to look over my shoulder through the darkness as Switch crossed the room. I heard him suck something through a straw, set a cup down on the table, followed by a bag. I groaned and pulled back on the belts once more. There was no give.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured when I realized he wasn’t about to acknowledge me. “I’m very sorry.”
Switch walked back over to the bed, “I bet you are.” He reached down between my legs. I shivered at his touch. “You’re wet, you shameless little whore. Here you are asking me to let you go, you’re enjoying this.”
I blushed and turned my head away from him. He moved his fingers up to my mouth. “Let’s try this again. Lick it off.” My face was flushed as I licked my wetness from his fingers. “You taste that?” he asked as I did, “that’s the taste of a kidnapped slut who’s enjoying herself.”
Switch reached over to the bedside table and looped a blindfold over my eyes. He knotted it tightly and adjusted it, ensuring that I could not see despite the darkness. A few moments later, I felt the fabric of my panties being forced into my mouth. I resisted a bit, but he managed to push them in.
“Now, I’m sure you won’t mind if I have a bite to eat before I get back to you,” he grabbed my face, shaking my head slightly, “be a good girl and maybe I’ll let you go soon."
Trapped, Part 4
After securing my arms to the headboard, Switch pulled my legs apart. On the sides of his bed, he had already set up belts that he looped around my ankles and pulled taut. Spread and bound, I squirmed around on the bed and tested the strength of the belts. I had about an inch of give either way, I could barely move.
Switch ran his hand up the back of my thigh and chuckled, “can’t fight me now, can you?” He slapped my ass and laughed so more when I gasped and lurched in my bonds. “No, I think I’ve got you to myself now.” He sneered and grabbed my ass, shaking it slightly, “and we’re going to have so much fun.”
I continued to pull against the bonds and shake my head. “Come on, let me go.” I didn’t want to give in too easily. Switch reached up and grabbed my hair, holding my head still and trying to push his fingers into my mouth. I bite down, not too hard, to voice my protest.
Switch pulled his fingers back, dropped my head and said nothing. He walked over to the other end of the bedroom and I heard him putting his sneakers on and grabbing his keys. I pulled hard on the belts. He’d left me tied this way to his bed before (I’ll fill you in on that story at another time, I promise), leaving the knot at my wrist within reach so I could let myself out if I needed.
“Please, don’t go,” I begged with sudden enthusiasm. “Don’t leave me here. I’ll be a good girl, I promise.”
All I heard next was the door close behind him.
Trapped, Part 3
(Disclaimer: The acts described here, despite their forcefulness and my resistance, were entirely consensual. I had a safe word and I could have stopped the encounter at any time if I did not feel comfortable.)
Switch groped my body like he was claiming it, communicating in chuckles and grunts the vastness of the control he wanted. He sneered at my lace bra and the way it barely shielded my breasts from his hands, barely hid the arousal voiced by my nipples.
“Look at this,” he breathed, pushing my shirt aside further. I gasped and tried to shove him off, attempting to push myself off the wall. He grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked, “I don’t think so, slut. I don’t think that’s how this goes.”
He dragged me over to his bed and shoved me up against the side of it. He bumped me with his body, forcing me to bend over as he started to yank off my clothing. My hands fumbled at my clothes, snatched his hands, frantically tried to protect my body.
Switch pulled the off the last of my clothing, my panties, with a rough tug He grabbed me quickly after, throwing me onto his bed and pushing me down on my stomach. The whole while, I fought feebly.
When I saw the belt already looped around his headboard, ready for my wrists, I swallowed hard. He must have seen me, because he placed his hand on the back of my head and shoved my face down into his sheets. In the darkness, I couldn’t tell what it was, but the texture of his sheets somehow felt different.
“Now, hold still, baby. Don’t want to have to hurt you like this,” he pulled my wrists up toward the headboard. I yanked back theatrically. “I want it to be fun when I hurt you.”