It was one of those days at work where you just didn’t want to be there. It is hard enough when I am bored and need to find ways to look productive, but when you are there to host an event, you have to be on. I hate being on.
So lunch time finally came, and I found me a little corner to hide away and eat my soggy sandwich. I will save the chips and cookie for the ride home.
I find a good spot away from prying eyes because you know I am going to pull up my phone and reread all those messages and scroll Fet for just a minute.
Although I have to admit something. I have been remiss in changing up my feed lately. Not really looking for new content. I need to find more writers of filth. I want to hear about more dastardly things.
Scrolling through, I think I found something to my liking. Here was a story with a content warning on it. Those are the ones I like. I like being triggered. I like reading about things that I know will never happen to me, but a girl can dream.
And I do dream.
This particular story had all the elements: the submissive not paying attention to her surroundings like a dumbass, a big, brutish, beefy man that came with his own mask, knife, and who knows what kind of restraints. You know that just happens. The girl is always taken by surprise and magically held against her will.
Sometimes I like more details, but I can see how that can get in the way of the plot. You know the one where the penis sticks in the vagina. That is how they all end. The girls get taken if you know what I mean.
I am a fan of all the other stuff. The lead-up, the anticipation, the thought of being overpowered in a physical sense, but also in a mental sense, which takes time. Sometimes too much time.
I can only get so hungry, I can only get so needy.
But also, there is something to be said about waiting. Because if you don’t have to wait, if you get to that moment too soon, then it is over. You can’t ever come back from that.
And sometimes you end up with a one-and-done kind of situation. It doesn’t always work out the way you think. You have too much time to build it up in your head. You use too many words, and suddenly, there are no words left. You are sitting there on repeat.
Anyway, I lost the plot here. Let’s read on.
Oh Yes. The man in the mask, with a knife coming at her from behind. That is the good part. I continue to read about her breath catching and her screams being muted by a hand on her mouth. My breath does that same little hitch that she must have done when the hand made contact. I want to feel that, too.
I am just sitting here in a corner of an academic building on a college campus, reading like any other person might be here. Just getting wet, dripping, losing track of time. Wishing for my own masked man. Feeling jealous of unknown people who have partners who love them enough to kidnap them. Such is life.
My hand is trying not to move downward. I am suddenly conscious of my facial expressions as I am biting my lip now, thinking about the moment she feels his cock hard against her back. I want that kind of effect on someone. I want to feel it. I want to see it. I want his cum coursing through me so I know how much of a good girl I am, even if I pretend to fight it a little.
I read on about her struggling to get away. I like to think I have some fight in me, but I know how I fawn and whimper and moan.
It has been so long since I have gotten anything I want. Is it so much to ask for him beside me? Touching me? Filling me?
As my thoughts turn to desperation for something I can never have, I feel a shift in the air. I suddenly realize I have been sitting here too long getting my crotch too wet.
I look up just in time for him to grab me and whisper in my ear with that voice.
Quiet, Baby, the others will hear.
Lisa Gray 