Chapter Two
Two Months Ago:
I sat in the chair, surrendered, as Kira applied makeup to my face with intense focus. "You've been painting my face for an hour," I said, my patience fraying. "Aren't you finished yet?" Kira exhaled sharply, her brush still poised.
"Stephanie, give me five minutes. Just be patient." After a moment, she stepped back. "Finished!"
I stood and faced the mirror; for a second, I didn't recognize the girl staring back. My blue eyes looked sharp and prominent behind the heavy kohl, and my lips were painted a deep crimson that perfectly matched my long red hair.
The short black leather dress clung to my curves like a second skin, accentuating my waist and making my ass look incredibly shapely.
Kira came up behind me holding thigh-high fishnet stockings topped with a delicate touch of lace. She spoke in a tone that brooked no argument: "Put these on."
"This is way too much!" I said hesitantly, checking my daring reflection. "We're going out to have fun today," she replied, pushing me along. "No objections!" I put them on, slipped into my high heels, and we headed out.
We took a taxi, and Kira checked her reflection. "Look at me, do I look beautiful?" Her short black hair heightened her sharp beauty, and her dark eyes were enchanting under the streetlights. Her short blue dress made her look truly stunning. "You look gorgeous," I answered sincerely.
She chirped excitedly, "This bar we're going to is very famous in New York. I'm so pumped!"
Finally, we arrived. In the heart of New York, we entered a place of total chaos; bodies were pressed against each other in the crowd, and the music was loud enough to vibrate through my bones.
We sat at the bar and ordered two drinks. "Kira, this place is amazing!" I said with admiration. "Told you!" she replied, waving her hands in the air to the rhythm.
After the fourth drink, I felt the world begin to spin. Kira pulled me from my stool. "Let's dance!" We stood and danced amidst the throngs of people, but Kira soon found someone to grind against, while I suddenly felt an urgent need to pee.
Finding a bathroom in this massive, packed venue felt impossible. I searched desperately until I stumbled into a quiet side hallway.
I walked a bit further until I found an old wooden door. I pushed it open and stepped inside; it was a large room bathed in a mysterious red light. In the center sat a massive bed, surrounded by strange sex toys and equipment.
I couldn't hold it any longer I felt like I was actually going to piss myself. I ran to the room's bathroom and relieved myself. A wave of immense relief washed over me.
I stood before the mirror, fixing my stray hairs and reapplying my lipstick, then stepped back out.
That's when I froze. A man was standing there. He spoke in a confident tone: "Where were you? You're very late."
"Excuse me?" I said, stunned. "I don't understand..."
"Come on," he said coldly. "Come here... get closer."
I took a step back. "You're mistaken, I'm not who you think I am!"
But he didn't listen. He moved toward me with lightning speed, pulled out a black blindfold, and tied it tightly over my eyes. "You are not to remove this," he commanded sternly.
"Sir, you're wrong! Let me go!" I screamed in panic. But he pulled me roughly on the bed and shackled my hands with cold metal handcuffs.
I tried to escape with all my strength, kicking the air and screaming in his face, "What is wrong with you, you psycho? Let me go!"
He grabbed my chin in his powerful grip, tilting my face up toward his, and spoke in a deep, threatening voice:
"One more word... and I'll empty the bullets of my gun into your head."
Fear seeped into my depths like icy cold. I was completely helpless, drowning in the darkness of the blindfold that robbed me of my sight, while my hands, roughly shackled to the headboard, made me a hostage to the unknown.
A terrifying silence hung in the room, broken only by the voice of the same man speaking in a submissive tone: "Hello, sir... she is ready."
I heard the sound of footsteps receding and leaving the room. Suddenly, a potent, sharp scent invaded my nostrils an overpowering masculine cologne that drew closer and closer until I felt his breath surrounding me.
Without warning, his hand settled over my breast. He didn't squeeze or crush; he simply left his palm there, heavy and warm over the leather fabric, while I remained in total silence, my breathing quickening against my will.
He withdrew his hand slowly. Then, I felt the tip of his finger trail with lethal softness over my foot, beginning to climb inch by inch, tracing my skin through the fishnet stockings until he reached my thigh and stopped right there.
A violent shiver raced through my entire body; my muscles flinched under his touch. I hated myself because my body was reacting this way, but he raised his finger, this time running his thumb over my lower lip.
I parted my mouth slightly, involuntarily, and he slid his finger into the cavity of my mouth. In a moment of lost consciousness, I licked his finger with my tongue.
I felt my body heat rise frantically; a single touch from him sent my instincts into a chaotic mess. I should have screamed, pushed him away, told him I wasn't who he thought but I didn't.
He withdrew his finger again, and that movement left me in a state of agonizing anticipation. I was starving for him to touch me again, but he didn't. I whispered in a choked voice overcome by need: "What are you waiting for?"
He didn't answer. Instead, I felt his hand reach behind my back to grasp the zipper of my leather dress. He pulled it down with agonizing slowness, the sound of the teeth unzipping echoing in my ears like a scream of arousal.
He removed the dress quietly and gently, leaving me in the black lace lingerie I had carefully chosen that evening.
He placed his finger at the top of my stomach and began to trail it downward with a slowness that tortured me; my body was trembling, shaking with desire, while heat and ecstasy consumed my insides.
When his finger reached the bottom of my belly, he stopped again, leaving me on the edge.
I let out a muffled moan, a cry of desire I couldn't suppress, and said to him with an eagerness laced with pain: "Why are you doing this? Why do you keep stopping?"