I felt like I was in my element there, and I thought nothing could get better until I met Nick*. He was one of the firm's associates, and no doubt, one of the best looking ones. It was amazing how a few brief "I-have-to-stay-to-work-late-
Being naive and probably in love with this man cum superior, I even had the audacity to think that we could have a future together, some kind of future. We began to have physical contact with each other within a month of our secret after-work acquaintance. He was everything I dreamed he would be in bed, and I gave all that I could to him. Untl the third time we were over at his place, did I see his true colors revealed.
We were in the middle of a passionate session when he left the room to get something. I had thought it would be some wine or scented candles, to add to the ambience. But when he stepped into the room again, I was surprised to see him carrying a coil of tape and black stockings. Fear seeped quietly into me as I watched him. He grinned at me and informed me that this was what actually turned him on, and "a constant practice" for him. Then he went on to explain that he had ran out of rope, which was why he had to use tape. I protested, but he assured me that there was no harm involved at all.
I trusted him, and let that cherubic face of his win me over. I remember twisting around to watch him tape my arms together behind my back, me asking him to loosen the bind so I wouldnt get numbed arms later on. Then he touched me, and it felt so good....... being helpless and completely at his mercy. I relaxed, and watched him roll the stockings up. He placed it into my mouth and continued to fondle me. Then he turned me over, facedown.
Suspense nearly killed me, wondering what he was trying to do. Anal? I would kill him first before I allow him to do that to me. I heard sounds in the background but could not make out what they really were. I recall hearing the soft jingling of metal, and then a strange "whoosh" sound, like that made by a fierce gush of wind. The next thing, I felt something land hard on my bare bottom, and it made me cry out loud. Only I couldnt be heard. The belt (as I later came to find out it was a belt) had left my flesh, but the pain lingered, having torn into my flesh. Again, the strange jingling sound and "whoosh" was heard, and I felt the belt cutting deep into my flesh again. I tried to scream and turn around, but only my tears were tell-tale signs of my agnoy at that point in time.
He cleaned up my blood and made love to me after that, but I was too numbed by shock and pain to feel anything else. After that incident, I never agreed to anymore of his dates. I did not as much as establish eye contact with him. All I felt whenever I saw him was humiliation and a sense of fear. Shortly henceafter, I left the firm with the excuse that I could not handle the pressure. No one else knew the real reason except him and I, and I did not dare to disclose this to anyone else.
Today, although it marked the second year we have ended all forms of contact, I still harbor a kind of phobia whenever I faced the thought of having to share another stranger's bed. Reading about such fetishes is one thing, but to have been involved in one, not as a willing party, does have an adverse affect, I believe. Maybe in a way, this taught me to be more cautious about who I get involved with in the future, but I pray hard that there arent many men around here who enjoys indulging in abnormal acts as such, in order to achieve pleasure.
Article republished - originally submitted and published in May 2007's issue of The Women's Weekly by original owner and writer herein. Information correct as of May 2007.
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