Good Girl

My first victim…

I watched her hurry down the icy sidewalk. The winter wind whipped her long, dark hair about her face. She had dressed more for style than warmth: a navy pea coat, collar turned up, a long red scarf around her throat (her throat!) that flapped in time with her hair, a grey turtleneck, tight blue jeans that came to just below her knees, and ‘70s style boots with clunky stacked wooden heels. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder. Her glasses had fogged up, so she had trouble seeing where she stepped in the early evening gloom. She came right to my hiding place.

As she passed, I stepped out behind her and clamped one gloved hand over her mouth. She squealed, but the snow and wind spirited the sound away. My other arm pinioned her arms at her sides, and I dragged her back, down cellar stairs. Her boot heels clunked on the steps. She kicked and thrashed. I pulled her through a waiting open door, and kicked it shut behind me.

For a few moments, I relished my accomplishment. I had her, mine, all mine! I let her struggle and grind her hips against my crotch. I felt her breath warm my hand as she whined and tried to scream. Finally, I shifted my grip from her mouth. She only got out a quick yelp as I wrapped my arm around her neck (her neck!) in a sleeper hold. She bucked for several seconds, and finally subsided. She hung limp in my arms.

I laid her on a shag rug I had prepared. I pulled over a plastic storage bin to hold her effects. I peeled off her backpack, and tossed it into the tub, then her coat. She started to moan. I pulled her wrists behind her and tied them securely. I stuffed a rag in her pretty mouth, and sealed it with duct tape. Finally, I tied her booted ankles together.

By the time I finished, she had come to, gazing around the basement room, at first blearily, then with rising panic. She screamed behind her gag, her dark eyes wild with fright. She writhed and rolled on the rug. I straddled her, grabbed her throat with one hand and placed my finger on her taped lips, as if to say, “Sssh”. She quieted, but still whimpered and wriggled beneath me, and rubbed against my swollen cock.

I pulled up her sweater, revealing her taut belly and her nicely rounded breasts. She wore a frilly, pale blue bra. I fondled her breasts, and slipped the bra cups up to expose her breasts. I stroked and squeezed, and dipped my head to lick and nibble. She moaned. Fear? Arousal? I slid my hand between her legs. She felt warm and damp.

I unbuttoned the jeans, and tugged them down past her hips to her knees. Her panties matched her bra. My fingers trembled as I stroked her belly, and teased her panties down to expose her silky brown crotch hair and sweet pussy. Again I licked and nibbled, working my fingers against her, and she squirmed in a mix of terror and delight.

I stopped, and looked in her eyes. Long strands of hair trailed across her face. Her glasses sat slightly askew. She gave me a pleading look, cocked her head slightly, and whined. I stroked her cheek, then peeled the tape and pulled the rag from her mouth. She panted shuddering breaths, then whispered, “Please don’t kill me.”

“Sssh,” I soothed, “You’re so pretty, so perfect. I would never kill you.” I smiled, “As long as you’re a good girl.” I squeezed her neck, “Are you a good girl?”

She gasped, and nodded.

“Good girl.”

I took off my clothes as quickly as I could. I found myself trembling with anticipation. My hands shook. When I dropped my pants, my cock sprang out at attention. She watched me and shivered.

I helped her to kneel. I pulled her sweater and bra over her head, down as far as her bound wrists would allow. She knelt naked from her knees to her elbows. I trailed my fingers down her body.

I stroked her lips, and thumbed her lower lip. She opened her mouth slightly, and I coaxed her to open it more. “You have such a pretty mouth. You could be a very good girl with your mouth. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

I had a bag of tricks waiting. From it I pulled a ring gag. “This is so you don’t bite me.” I slipped it into her waiting mouth, and strapped it tight, making sure to leave her hair free. I loved the way it spilled down over her shoulders, down to her bosom. I didn’t want to spoil that.

I took up position in front of her, tangled my fingers in her long, dark hair, and pulled her head toward me. She shied away. I twisted her hair. She yelped.

“Good girl...” I warned.

She stretched out her tongue, and licked the tip of my cock.

“Good girl!”

I eased my cock further into her mouth. She looked up at me with those pleading eyes, and sucked me as well as the gag allowed. I began to thrust my hips at her, and pull her mouth onto me. I fucked her face. She choked and gagged, not used to going down. Her eyes showed alarm. She tried to pull away, but I held tight and raped her mouth. Each thrust came faster and harder. She jerked and pulled, trying to get air. She tried to cry out, and felt the sound hum against my cock.

I climaxed. My back arched, every nerve firing as I jammed my cock up to the hilt into her perfect mouth. Hot cum overflowed and spurted past her lips. She coughed and drowned on it. I shuddered as wave after wave of delight surged through my body. Finally, I released her, and we both fell panting to the rug.

After I caught my breath, I looked over at my captive. She lay curled up on her side in a fetal position, sobbing quietly. She tried to hide her face in the rug. I undid the ring gag and stroked her hair.

“That was a very good girl. What’s your name?”

“C-colleen.”

“Colleen. Such a good girl, so pretty, so perfect”.

I desperately wanted to fuck her. I untied her ankles, and tried to pull her jeans off over her boots. Perversely, I have a thing for boots, and the way these conformed to the shape of her calves and ankles looked so sexy. It took quite a bit of effort, but soon I had her feet free.

She aimed a vicious kick at my head. I ducked just in time, and took most of the blow on my shoulder. The clunky 70s style heel just grazed the side of my head. A little slower, and she’d have knocked me out.

I caught her ankle and twisted, to flip her over onto her belly. She screamed, “Help! Help me!” I straddled her, and with both hands squeezed her throat as hard as I could. Her screams choked off, but she thrashed and bucked, trying to shake me off. I kept one hand tight on her throat, and groped with the other for something to shut her up. I found the rag I had pulled from her mouth, and stuffed it back in, making her choke.

My shoulder throbbed where her kick landed. I rested a minute. I kept my weight on her to pin her to the floor. She could only wiggle from side to side like a fish. I twisted around, unzipped her wicked boots, peeled them off, and threw them with some force into the bin.

I rolled her over to face me. I gripped her neck hard. “That was a bad girl,” I spat, “That was a very bad girl!” Her eyes bugged. She twisted hard, but I kept up the pressure. Finally, she tired, and I eased my grip.

I picked up her long red scarf. It was made of a fuzzy, stretchy acrylic yarn, not too strong, but I hoped strong enough. I pulled it taut in front of her face. “You need a lesson, bad girl.” I looped the scarf around her neck, and pulled tight. She shook her head, “no,” and made another panicked attempt to throw me off. She made loud strangled growls around the rag. I pulled tighter. The scarf had just enough stretch. It served to quiet her, but not enough to cut off her air entirely. I intended to take full advantage of this.

By now my cock was rock hard. All the struggling and rubbing had thoroughly aroused me. Our bodies were slick with sweat. I positioned myself between her legs. She knew what I intended, and writhed in an attempt to deny me. No use. I slid my cock into her.

She moaned. She gave me a helpless look, then closed her eyes and turned her head away. I thrust myself into her, over and over, grunting like an animal. She emitted little gasps and yelps at each stroke. I hammered away, feeling my orgasm build. My vision went red, and another, stronger climax burst out of me. She groaned, her hips thrust back at me. I felt the muscles in her sweet pussy squeeze down on my cock. We throbbed liked that, each pulse coaxing another spurt of cum.

I kept rocking back and forth, slower and slower, easing out the last of my load. She whimpered. I finally let go of the scarf, and unwound it from her neck. It bore an angry red band where I had throttled her. She gasped and drew in long, shuddering breaths.

Our struggles and sweat had left strands of her hair plastered across her face. I smoothed them away, and looked into her sad, hopeless eyes.

“You had to ruin it,” I said.

She began to cry again, and wag her head, “no.”

“You had to be a bad girl.” More tears. More sobs.

I dropped the scarf in the bin. Slowly, with theatrical flair, I pulled a length of electrical cord from my bag of tricks. I gathered it in my fist and held it like a noose. She tried to scoot away on her butt, pushing with her feet. I caught her by her long hair, and forced the cord over her head. She made delightful squeals muted by the rag.

I dragged her by the loop around her tender neck to kneel in the center of the rug. I pulled the loop tight. Her bound hands twisted behind her. She whined behind the rag. Her terrified eyes pleaded.

I gave her a respite. I plucked the rag once more from her mouth. “Please,” she gasped, “Oh please, don’t kill me! I’ll do anything you want! I’ll be a good girl.” I laid my finger on her lips, then kissed her. I explored her succulent mouth with my tongue. I could feel her shivering with fear.

My overworked cock had sprung back to attention. I laid her down on the rug and mounted her. She wrapped her legs around me, trying to take the tension off her tortured neck. I gripped the ends of the cord like a horse’s reins, and rode her once again. Each time I pumped into her, I growled, “Good girl! Good girl! Good girl!” In response she gave a little gasp, “Ah, ah, ah,” faster and faster, pitching higher and higher. Then I tightened the cord, and she made a cute little gargling noise, “Urk, urk, urk,” while her hips bucked, all in rhythm with me. I gazed into her wild, terrified eyes. I kept pumping until those eyes closed, the noises stopped, and her head lolled to the side.

I loosened the cord. She looked around blearily and gasped for breath. She opened her mouth to beg for mercy, but I hauled tight on the cord. All she uttered was a strangled “Agk!,” and I pumped at her sweet pussy again. This time, she only made faint wheezing sounds, and she faded from consciousness sooner.

I let her breathe again. She took longer to recover. Her movements seemed slow and hopeless. I dragged at the cord one last time. Now she made no sound. Her eyes focused on nothing. Her hips moved in jerky spasms.

Once again, my vision narrowed. I heard the blood roaring in my ears. The pressure in my cock spread through my whole body. It seemed almost unbearable, a sweet mix of pain and ecstasy. I came. Stars burst in my vision. I heard myself cry out like an animal. Colleen’s whole body thrashed beneath me in one last desperate bid for life. I held the cord tight and pumped until my last dribble of cum had spent. Then she moved no more. I lay atop her a long while, caressing her motionless corpse.

I realized I had to clean up. All her clothes went in the bin. I knew I had to roll her body in the rug for disposal, but I kept procrastinating. It would mean an end to our encounter. Instead, I reviewed my technique. I had let my eagerness cloud my judgment. She had nearly kicked my fool head in, and that would have been the end of my career. At the end, I had rushed, overwhelmed by lust. I probably could have used her longer, if only I had exercised more restraint. Next time, next time…

Before I wrapped her in the rug, I let my fingers drift across her lovely face and body one last time. “Such a good girl,” I crooned.