Sabrina's Masked Intruder

By Stig


As I placed my purchases on the conveyor belt at the Wal-Mart checkout, I couldn't help feeling a bit self-conscious.  Sure, I was lucky that they still had a black ski mask in stock this far into March.  But sitting there next to the two rolls of black electrician's tape, the whole setup looked pretty obvious to me.

"You're in luck!  This is marked down to a dollar for clearance," said the young cashier without a trace of irony or suspicion in her voice.  Whew!

Earlier that day, I had been talking to my girlfriend, Sabrina, on the phone.  She had confided in me about a long-unfulfilled rape fantasy.  "I don't want to get raped for real," she had said, "but, you know, by someone that I like pretending to do it.  He'd break into my apartment and make me do whatever he wanted..."

OK, I could take a hint.  "Well, that sounds interesting," I said, "but we'd have to have a few ground rules so the whole thing doesn't get out of control and nobody gets hurt."  We had only been dating for a few months, and I had actually gotten her into a bit of light bondage a couple of times.  But she didn't know the true extent of my interest in bondage yet and didn't know about safewords or scene negotiation or any other stuff like that.  And at this point, she didn't want to know about those things.  She stated her conditions with the complete conviction of the inexperienced:  "Nope.  No rules.  If it's going to feel real, I'd have to be totally at the guy's mercy!"

"OK," I thought, "you asked for it..."  My mind was already racing a hundred miles an hour planning my "home invasion" and deciding what I'd need.  The first order of business was the mask.  After all, if she wanted realism, I couldn't let her see my face!  But what would I use to restrain her?  If we were both going to get what we wanted out of this fantasy, she was definitely getting tied up in some way, shape, or form.  Besides, it's tough to put on a condom while holding down a struggling "victim!"

I decided that tape would be the way to go.  It's fast, disposable, and doesn't leave marks.  Plus, she had narrow hands and had already demonstrated once to me that she could slip out of handcuffs pretty easily if they're not really clamped on tightly.  In the store, I had gone so far as to unroll a bunch of different types of tape and stick a bit of each to the hairy part of my wrist to see which one hurt the least to remove.  Electrical tape was the winner.  But I'd also be bringing along some wide, cloth medical tape to gag her.  I wanted to bring along the duct tape, but I decided that I'd be better off travelling light.

The trickiest part of this whole operation was going to be getting into her apartment.  When we had first discussed this, I had mentioned that she'd have to leave her door unlocked for me.  But she still insisted on realism.  "If I know you're going to do it, it'll take the fun out of it"  she had said.  The problem was that she lived in the second-floor apartment of a house owned by mutual friends of ours.  I didn't want to damage the door getting in, and I'd feel a little silly strolling into their yard in a ski mask!

Then the answer finally dawned on me:  since the landlord's a friend of mine - I'd just ask him to let me in!  Wow!  How much more obvious could it be?

On the big day, I got to the house before she got home from work and parked in the alley behind the house.  I walked around to the front and rang the doorbell.  Paul came to the door.  "Hey, what's up?  Wanna come in for a beer?" he asked.

"No, actually what I need is a little favor" I said.  "Do you think that you could let me into Sabrina's apartment and not tell her about it when she gets home?  I have a little surprise for her."

"Oh, sure," he said.  "You gonna do that rape thing?" He asked, with an evil grin.

OK, so there are precious few secrets in our circle of friends.  There are about eight of us who have spent many a long drunken evening together, often ending up playing strip poker, strip Twister, or something that resulted in a bunch of giggling, bare-ass naked, drunk people.  But did she have to tell them EVERYTHING?!?

I just kind of looked at my shoes and grinned sheepishly.  "Ummm...yeah.  So if you hear a bit of a commotion up there, don't call 911, ok?"

"Ok," he said "but be careful, all right?  You know how accident-prone she is!"  He was right, of course.  She isn't just a member of the Bruise-A-Day Club - she's the President.  It would be just like her to go hopping across the room, bound hand and foot, and take a dive right down the stairs.  He went into the house, returning moments later with the spare key to her apartment.

Once upstairs, I managed to trap her cat in the spare bedroom.  I then pulled out my mask and tape and looked for a hiding place.  The spare room was out; her damned cat was in there.  I chose her bedroom closet and settled in to wait for her return.

I killed a couple of minutes by preparing some short lengths of the medical tape for her mouth and folding back little tabs on the electrical tape so I could get at the ends easily.  But after about 30 minutes of waiting I was bored, restless, and uncomfortable.  I was thinking about sneaking out to call her at the office when I heard her front door opening.  I pulled on my mask, checked my rolls of tape, and waited for her to climb up the stairs and into my trap.

Through the louvers in the sliding closet door, I watched her cross the kitchen and enter the bedroom.  I decided to wait and see if she'd change her clothes, and my patience was rewarded.  She turned toward the bed and removed first her blouse, then her skirt, leaving just her bra, panties, and pantyhose and shoes.  It was showtime!

Quickly, I threw open the closet door and pushed her face-down onto the bed, climbing onto her back.  I took a dulled pocket knife from my pocket, held the unsharpened back edge against her throat and hissed in my most sinister voice, "Don't make a sound, bitch!  Don't try anything  funny, and you won't get hurt!"

She tensed underneath me.  She probably knew it was me at this point, but I think that she still wasn't quite sure.  "Hold still and close your mouth," I said as I took a strip of tape from my sleeve and pressed it firmly against her lips.  I then took a roll of the black electrical tape in one hand and her left wrist in the other and started to wrap the tape around.  I then grabbed the other wrist and began wrapping the tape around and around, careful not to let it cut off her circulation.

After I got about halfway up her forearms, it was time to finish her gag.  I jerked her up to her knees on the bed, and applied four or five more long strips of the tape to her face.  She played the victim perfectly, "mmmphing" in fear with a terrified look in her eyes that set me on fire!

"Hold still," I warned her again, and began wrapping her right thigh and ankle together with the black tape.  I then moved over and did the same to her left side.  She was trapped in a kneeling position on the bed and wouldn't be going anywhere soon.  But I wasn't done - I still had a roll and a half of tape left.

The mask was starting to bug me.  I had an idea.  "Don't turn around!" I growled.  I pulled off the hot, black knitted mask and put it on her head with the eyeholes turned toward the back.  I then took some tape and wrapped it loosely around her neck - just enough so that the mask couldn't be worked up over her chin.

She started to struggle and make noise again.  I ran the tip of the dull knife down her spine.  "Don't make me use this, bitch!"  I hissed into her ear.  She quieted down and stopped squirming, but she was still breathing heavily.  I reached down and ran one finger along the crotch of her panties.  She was wet as a sponge!  "Horny little cunt, ain't ya?" I taunted my hooded captive.  "After I'm done shopping, you and I are gonna have a little fun!"

I took the half-finished roll of tape and started wrapping it around her upper body, trapping her arms against her, but leaving her breasts accessible.  Then I pushed her face-down onto the bed.  "Don't do anything stupid," I warned her again.  "I'm keeping an eye on you!"

I stepped away from the bed and made rummaging-around noises, but mostly I just stood around watching her squirm and enjoying her muffled sounds of protest.  I decided to actually look around for stuff that I could use since I had decided to travel light and do this thing "McGuyver style."  In the kitchen I found a wooden spoon - the discipline tool of choice for parents like mine who raised their kids before the politically correct 90's.  Excellent!  I also came up with a pair of scissors for removing the rest of her clothing, about 15 feet of clothesline and some clothespins.  This could take a while...

Back on the bed, she was probably thinking the same thing.  I imagined that it was getting pretty hot under that ski mask.  "Better her than me!" I said under my breath.  She was the one who asked for no rules!  She was actually starting to make some progress with the tape on her wrists, so the first order of business was to finish off the first roll of tape reinforcing her wrist bindings.  That should hold her!

I then pulled her back up onto her knees and grabbed the scissors.  "You've got some pretty crappy stuff here, lady," I told her.  "I guess there's only one way left for me to make this trip worthwhile!"

I could tell that she was pretty miffed about the "crappy stuff" remark by the way she thrashed around.  She tried to say something which I thought I recognized, but which came out sounding like "Uhhh OOOO!!!"  Was she trying to get at the tape, or was she flipping me the bird?  It didn't really matter.  I just laughed and grabbed the front of her bra, pulling it roughly toward me.  "Let's see what you've got going on in here" I said as I snipped the link between the two cups, releasing her beautiful 36D breasts.

"Mmmmphhh!" She protested as I moved  behind her taking a breast in each hand.  I played with them for a couple of minutes and I could feel her nipples responding to my touch.  I grabbed two of the clothespins, attaching them onto one nipple, then the other.  Each one was greeted with a muffled shriek from behind the tape.  She has really sensitive nipples, and I knew that she wasn't enjoying this part!  She tried in vain to shake free of the painful little pincers, but a whack on the butt with the spoon let her know that she should just keep still.  Just for good measure, I gave her tender titties a few more light slaps with the utensil of torture.  Each stroke was greeted with another short cry from my captive.

I once again slid a finger down to her crotch, this time into her panties.  She was soaking wet.  "She probably came at least once already," I thought to myself, and  pulled my hand back out, leaving behind a moist trail up her belly.

I moved back around to her front side and went to work on her pantyhose with the scissors.  "Don't move!" I told her with a smirk that I was glad she couldn't see.  "This is a delicate operation."  Just to let her know that I meant business, I gave her inner thigh a firm whack with the spoon which brought another muffled shout from under the mask.  I started at the top middle, and cut right along the seam, between her spread-but-trapped legs, and up the other side, cutting them neatly in two.  This elicited another satisfying "mmmpphhh."  I then cut away the remains of the two halves of the panty part, effectively leaving her with a pair of homemade thigh high stockings.

Next, it was time for the real panties.  This was going to be tough - I really liked this particular purple, lacy undergarment.  "Oh, well,"  I thought.  "I guess I have to suffer for my art!"  I snipped each side at the hip and pulled slowly upward from the front, making sure that she could feel every millimeter of the sheer fabric sliding along her moistened slit.  She squeezed d her thighs tightly together as I pulled.  Was it to protect her last shred of modesty, I wondered, or was she trying to increase the friction between the silky material and her tingling clit?  I suspected the latter.

With that little tug-o-war over, it was getting near time for the main event.  I let her stew there for a while on the bed while I kicked off my sneakers and dropped my jeans.  She was still struggling a bit against the tape as I pushed her onto her back.  Without a word, I pushed apart her knees and knelt down to pleasure her with my tongue.

Any pretense of struggling was out the window at that point.  She pointed her toes and dug into the mattress, trying to lift her pussy to meet my mouth.  It wasn't necessary.  I moved in and started licking her with wild abandon - thrusting my tongue into her as far as I could possibly manage and licking and sucking her pussy lips.

After a few minutes of that, I went back to work on her clit until I sensed that she was about to cum.  I reached up and removed the cruel clothespins from her breasts, bringing a muffled shriek of pain followed by relief and pleasure.  They say that they hurt even more coming off, and her reaction was all the proof that I needed!  I took a breast in each hand, caressing and squeezing, bringing her closer and closer until...until...

...Until I remembered that she was supposed to be a "victim," and wasn't supposed to be having this much fun.  I decided to leave her hanging for a bit and took a couple of steps back to watch her squirm.  She was frustrated, and made sure that I knew it by thrashing about and making whatever "get back here!" noises that she could muster up.

Ahhhhh... the Hell with it! I thought, and decided that it was time to fuck her.  I was already fully aroused - had been for quite some time, in fact.  I picked up my jeans from the floor and pulled a condom from the pocket.  Tearing open the packet, I slid it on and walked back to the bed.

Once again, I pushed apart her legs, meeting no resistance whatsoever.  I parted her pussy lips and thrust my cock deep inside her.  "MmmmMMMMMMmmmmm!" She moaned as I invaded her, pumping in and out as my life depended on it.

After a few minutes, I pulled out of her, eliciting another frustrated moan.  But her frustration was short-lived as I flipped her over and took her again from behind, propping her up on her knees and pulling her toward me.  Soon, I felt her muscles begin to quiver and tighten their grip on my cock.  With a loud "mmmmMMMMMMMMmmmmmmm!" I knew that she had just had a tremendous orgasm.  I followed seconds later with a knee-trembler of my own, and fell forward upon her.

After I pulled out  of her, I left the room to dispose of the rubber and clean myself off, leaving her alone on the bed for just a few moments.  I was trying to think up a grand finale when I remembered the rope.

I found her as I had left her: face-down on the bed and still tightly bound in tape.  I took the scissors and freed her legs, which she gratefully extended for the first time in almost an hour.  I rolled her over and helped her up onto her feet next to the bed.  I went into the nightstand next to her bed and rummaged around until I found the small, black vibrator that I had bought her a couple of weeks before.  I felt bad looking around in her personal stuff, but I WAS here to "rob" the place, right?

I then folded the length of rope in the middle and wrapped it around her waist, passing the ends through the loop in front.  As I pulled the end down toward her crotch, she gave me an inquisitive "mmmMMM?"  I measured off about where the rope would reach her clit and tied a knot with the two strands - then another one about two inches further, and threaded the rope between her pussy lips and ass cheeks and pulled it tightly upward and over her wrist bindings.  "MMMMmmmm!" She cried.  She had never experienced a crotchrope before, and had no idea what I was up to.  I brought the rope back through her legs, spacing the strands out a bit wider and tied it off in front at her waist.  Then I reached for the vibrator and pushed it between the two knots and into her still-wet vagina.   I turned it on high, and I could tell that she was starting to turn to jelly.

I still wasn't sure that she wouldn't lose her toy, so I made her bring her legs together and wrapped tape around her thighs, binding them tightly together.  She could hobble around like this, and I led her to the middle of the kitchen.  "Stand right here, and don't move!" I ordered, giving her another swat on the bum with the wooden spoon and bringing out another stifled cry.

I retrieved the scissors from the bedroom and made my way back through the kitchen and into her living room.  I looked around, and after finding a suitable spot, deposited the scissors where I figured that she could reach them.

Returning to her, I secured her ankles with more tape, and lowered her down to the floor.  "Listen carefully," I said.  "I've put a pair of scissors on the floor, over near your couch.  By the time you get over there and get yourself free, I'll have made a clean getaway."  I chuckled and walked toward the bedroom, where I put my pants and sneakers back on and opened the door that was the other entrance to her apartment.

I walked past her, toward the front door.  "Have fun, Toots!" I called as I descended the stairs.  She let out a frustrated moan behind me as I left.

Outside, I ran into Paul again.  "Having fun up there?" He asked, grinning.

"Sure am," I replied.  "Say, how about that beer now?"

Chuckling, he went into the house, and returned a few moments later with a can of Bud.  I opened it and took a long swig.  "Thanks!"  I said, as we both heard something fall over upstairs.  "Hate to drink and run, but I've got to get back before she manages to destroy the place!  I'll see you in a bit."  And with that, I took off my sneakers again and made my way quietly up the other stairs to the open door.  Silent as a cat, I tip-toed through the bedroom and observed her progress.  She had made it all the way into the living room and was shimmying toward the couch, feeling around for the precious scissors with her toes.  She had so far only managed to knock over one chair, and a small potted plant.  It was pretty obvious that the vibrator was messing with her concentration, as she kept stopping for short, shuddering breaks.

After nearly 20 minutes she, found what she was looking for.  Slowly, a few inches at a time, Sabrina managed to pull the scissors with her stocking-footed toes up toward her waiting hands.  The pressure of the vibrator on her clit when she bent at the waist once again caused her concentration to lapse.  She fumbled around with them for several more minutes until she got the blades around the tape between her wrists and began sawing away.  I watched to make sure that she didn't cut herself, accident-prone as she was.

With her hands now free, the evil crotch rope went slack, but she elected to leave her toy right where it was.  She managed to sit up with her back to me and cut the tape around her upper arms.  Then she picked at the tape around the base of the mask and pulled it off, shaking her sweat-soaked hair.  Finally, she was able to remove the tape that had sealed her mouth, and she lay back down on the floor breathing heavily and rubbing her face.

Then, in her peripheral vision, she finally saw me sitting cross-legged on the floor with my beer and a great-big grin.  "YOU BASTARD!" she cried, but she was also smiling.  "I can't believe you were here the whole time!  Shit, I'm thirsty - give me that!"

"Come over here and get it!" I taunted.  Her legs and ankles still taped together, she slithered across the floor like a mermaid out of water.

"You know that I would never leave you alone like that," I reassured her as she greedily gulped down the rest of my beer.  "Here, let me help you."  With the scissors, I cut away the remaining tape, removed the rest of her tattered bra and stockings, and pulled out the soaked sex toy.

"Looks like somebody could use a nice, long, relaxing bubble bath and a glass of wine," I  observed.  She melted into my arms, and gave her a long, passionate kiss.  "Come on, Mr. Bubble is waiting to have his way with you!" I said as I led her to the tub.