Welcome to Free Erotica Friday
Today’s treat is penned by Alyss Abyss; a first timer here on Free Erotica Friday.
Her story is one of sado-masochism and love, and we don’t mind admitting we’re more than a little intrigued – is this a true story or kinky fiction, Alyss?
Trigger Warning: Although we know that kidnap and abuse scenes aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, this is no doubt a hot story – with a happy ending! Let us know what you think, readers…
My directions are clear; it’s a short walk from the bus stop to the party, just it happens to got through the old industrial estate. I don’t think anything of it until I get there and hear the echoing of my heels clicking eerily on the concrete footpath. Without thinking, I speed up, stealing glances at the map every few seconds, trying to reassure myself that it’s not that much further. I turn the corner and almost run into someone. I try to move around them and they step the same way. I go the other way and, again, they step with me. Giggling nervously, I stop and they stride past me and I hurry down the path, double checking the map again.
I suddenly feel an arm around my neck and before I even register what is happening, material is forced into my mouth and over my eyes. I panic. Kicking and trying to scream, I claw at the arm holding me but it stays strong and I can feel myself being dragged backwards, my heels scraping on the ground. The bumps of going up steps and through a doorway, where my heel catches and snaps. A loud slam, magnified in what must be one of the large, empty warehouses.
Someone grabs my wrists and secures them with a scratchy rope, pulling my hands above my head, forcing me to stand tall, feeling awkward in my broken shoes. I feel the cool of metal against my skin and tense up. The blade trails across my throat, sharp, cold, deadly. My dress falls away from me as I feel the knife at my shoulders, my bra following. The knife slips down my body, skimming over my skin, and I can feel myself subconsciously relaxing. Trailing down the crease between my leg and my cunt, my breath catches, suddenly nervous again. My knickers are pulled away from my body and then fall loose, cut away without a sound. Suddenly, there is nothing touching me, whoever held the knife having moved away, and I feel vulnerable and exposed, shivering with the coolness on my skin and the fear that is washing over me. My mouth is dry from the fabric stuffed in it and the sides are sore where it is digging in. I hear rustles and murmurs, unable to place the sounds, disorientated by the lack of sight and the adrenaline pumping through my body.
I know someone is close by again; there are muffled feet on the ground near me and I feel a presence. I will myself to calm down and I can hear their breathing. Coming closer, I can smell something very familiar but I can’t quite place it. Another person near to me, hands snaking around my body, onto my breasts, not caressing but taking time to pull and grope and tease. A whisper in my ear.
“You know everyone in this room, little slut, but don’t think that means you’re safe.”
A shudder escapes me involuntarily, the voice recognisable but I don’t want to think that they are here, seeing me like this, doing this to me.
“Don’t be scared, little one” another familiar growl, “you’re in good hands”
A mix of cruel laughter drifts across the room. I’m starting to think about just who might be here when I’m distracted by the clinking of chain, the clatter of wood, the movement of people around me. My mind is flooded with terrible ideas of what will happen to me and my breathing speeds up. Fear and anticipation mix, my skin covering in goosebumps, waiting, frightened, eager.
The first strike catches me off guard. The tails of the flogger tear into the skin on my back and I gasp out, not really through the pain. The wielder takes that as a cue to go on and the blows continue, slowly paced, heavily, thuddy. A warm glow spreading across my back and arse. My head flops and I give in to the sensation, letting my mind go, almost glad they tied me up. A pause, a moment of respite, just enough for my senses to return. Just enough so that when the flogging starts again, I really notice the difference. Faster, harder, barely chance to breath, the tails stinging, biting. I know they want me to call out but I don’t want to give them that pleasure. I take it all as best I can, breathing through the pain, processing it into delightful endorphins, willing myself to keep up with them.
As suddenly as it started, it stops. I feel my arms lowered a little, a hand on my head, forcing me to bend over. Hands at my ankles attaching me to cuffs, spreading my legs. A collar around my neck, attached to somewhere so I can’t stand back up. Exposed, positioned and exploitable.
“Shall we beat her or fuck her?”
The room filled with malicious laughter again, my heart pounding, both ideas terrifying and exciting me in equal measure. A hand grabbing my hair, pulling my head back, removing the material in my mouth, for it to be quickly replaced by something else, something larger, smoother. Straps pulled back and fastening the ball gag in my mouth. Subconsciously, I let out a snort of anger, something that is met with the biggest slap across my arse, ones which continue to rain down, spread out but unrelenting. My screams muffled, held back by the object in my mouth and frustration starts to set in.
The beating continues. I’m aware that there are different sensations, different implements, probably different people abusing me but I can barely distinguish anything as I try to process the pain. The initial flogging seems like a distant, beautiful memory, yet I can feel my increasing arousal, that ache that spreads through my cunt, increasing with every series of strokes. Pulled around, straightened up, pushed and shoved, anything to give people better access to my body. My breasts abused, slapped, pinched, bitten. Nipples pulled, twisted, clamped. Fists and feet slam into me, delicious thudding onto my back and arse, my legs buckling, my body taking whatever is thrown at it, beyond pain, beyond thinking.
The gag removed, drool pouring down my chin, wiped across my face. Restraints removed, my limbs free but still they leave me blind to who they are. A fist in my hair, pulling me to my knees, a cock forced into my tired mouth, right to the back of my throat so I splutter and gag. Hands hold my head still whilst my face is fucked. Focussing on staying upright and not choking, I barely have time to think of how embarrassing this is. Hands on my waist roughly pull me so I’m on all fours. Cool air skims across my exposed cunt and I shiver involuntarily, cunt throbbing, desperate for attention. Fingers probe me; one, then two, then three.
“Wow, she really is a little masochist slut” as they wipe their dripping fingers across my arse.
I feel my face glow. Having my arousal pointed out like that is a guaranteed way to make me both embarrassed and more horny.
A strap on fills my cunt, the cock still fucking my mouth. I can’t think of anything but my desires. I want to be completely filled, to be used by them all, to be objectified and abused. I’ve given in to my overwhelming desires now and instead of protesting, I am encouraging, begging, willing them on in my mind. My back arches more, my arse proud in the air. Whoever is fucking me seems to notice and gets faster, pounding away at my cunt. Tension is building up, orgasm moments away and they pull out, running the length of their cock along my slit, sending a shudder through me. Still forced to suck at the cock in my mouth, tears of frustration prick at my eyes. My suddenly empty cunt aching to be filled, desperate for release.
“You want to come, do you?” rhetorical, mocking.
Rough hands at my clit, teasing for a second and then spreading my arse. The person at my mouth pulls out and, without thinking, I call out, desperate, longing, wonton.
“Please fill me, fuck me, make me come”
“You can do better than that!”
“Oh, Please. Please let me come. Please, sir. Please, miss. Oh, please.” I blush, knowing how pathetic I sound.
“But we’ve only just got started, little one. We wouldn’t want to tire you out before we were done with you.”
Tears pour as they continue to use me, keeping me on the brink, never letting me come, fucking me however they choose.
Finally, a gentle whisper in my ear.
“Good girl! Are you ready to come for us?”
The words are so freeing, I feel an orgasm well up in me, my cunt aching, my legs crumbling. Powerful and loud, I come so many times in quick succession, the hand at my clit unrelenting. Finally, I collapse to the floor, exhausted, happy, gasping for air.
The blindfold removed. Time to meet my ‘captors’. My partners smiling down at me, our kinky friends, a group of people all looking at me lovingly.
Alyss Abyss is a 28 year old Mancunian who identifies as a poly, queer, often femme, switch. She enjoys kink, singing, knitting, geeky TV and musicals. She lives with her husband and cat, with other partners living close by who are also a major part of her life. She is a regular on the kink scene and is starting to make queer porn and work as a BDSM model.
She writes her own blog where you can also find more of her smutty stories. Some of them are based on truth, others are just her fantasies and desires. She writes because she wants to share her filthy mind with others.
Follow her on Twitter @AlyssAbyssUK