The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website), contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.






Beth in Stocks 

Hello, my name is Beth.

I am writing this account to help me sort out my feelings about a very strange 
experience I had last night. Perhaps I'll show it to my boyfriend when I'm 
finished.

First, I'll describe myself.

I am a college student at a small midwestern university, majoring in English. I 
am 22 years old. I am very petite. I think of myself as somewhat average 
looking, but I'm not very good at describing my looks, so I'll just tell you that 
some of my friends have called me "a girl- next-door type", "real", "not a 
fashion model - more like a princess in disguise".

I think my forehead is too high, my breasts are a bit asymmetrical, and I have a 
few awkwardly placed freckles, but none of my boyfriends (I've had three) has 
ever complained.

Last night, it seemed I "awoke" in a very strange position. My body was folded 
up into some type of "stocks"; essentially a wooden board with padded holes for 
my neck, wrists, and ankles. This board was hanging by chains from a steel 
frame that was being wheeled quickly down the hallway of my dorm by two 
young men whom I did not know.

I was naked.

No, not entirely; as I carefully tried to turn my head to the right, I could see, on 
the other side of my hand, that I was wearing a white pump with a four inch 
heel. I did not recognize it. Since it was so difficult to turn my head, I just 
assumed that my left foot was similarly shod.

I must have been a bizarre sight as I swung to and fro, much like an IV bottle 
on a hospital gurney.

The breeze caused by our passage stiffened my nipples and blew over my lips 
down below.

At about this time, sleep left me completely. I think I had thought this was 
merely a naughty dream I was having until then. As my head cleared, I began 
to yell. "Help! Help!!" I cried.

One of the men gave me an incredibly hard slap on my bare ass, and growled: 
"Shut up, bitch!" He was clearly worried that someone would hear me. In my 
pain and shock, I remained silent.

At this point we came to the door of what I recognized as the lounge on my 
floor of the dorm. There was only one person there, and I did not recognize 
him. He was not handsome, but not too bad-looking. I decided that I "would". I 
had found from conversations with my friends that I was not alone in this habit; 
whenever I met a new man, I would immediately decide whether I would or 
would not allow him to make love to me. This does not mean that I WILL go to 
bed with him, but it does sort of determine what types of relationships I can 
have with that guy. I imagine men do much the same thing when they meet a 
woman.

The two men shut the door of the lounge, unhooked the board from the chains, 
and placed me on the couch, next to the other man. They had to sort of prop me 
up against the cushions. My position would have been ridiculous, if I hadn't 
been so frightened; back against the cushions, head, hands, and feet in the air, 
my sex completely exposed to the air, and to their eyes. If I was not so limber (I 
had been doing aerobics and stretching, off and on, for the last couple of years), 
I would not be able to get into this postion at all. As it was, I was able to keep 
my head, hands, and feet all pretty much lined up, without too much 
discomfort. I wondered how long I would have to stay this way, though.

With a final hungry look at my exposed sex, the two men left. I did not know 
what to say or do. I wanted to beg him to free me, to ask him what was going 
on. I wanted to break down into tears of embarrassment, but I did not yet dare 
to do any of these things.

What happened next was really bizarre. He introduced himself as Pat, and 
shook my hand. I found my hand shaking his automatically, although my wrist 
motions were limited by the stocks. When I didn't respond further, he asked my 
name. "Beth," I said in a tiny voice. Then he asked me if I wanted to watch tv. I 
nodded my head dumbly.

For the next hour, we watched television. No one disturbed us. The tv's volume 
was turned down low; I didn't pay much attention to the program, although it 
was a PBS nature documentary, and as an animal lover, I would normally have 
been quite interested.

Pat watched it a little, and read a magazine; I tried to sneak a looks at him 
whenever he was reading. He was fully dressed; I was naked. It didn't seem at 
all fair. 

Several times during that hour, I asked him to let me go. I asked him what this 
was all about. Each time, he ignored me. It was as if I had not even spoken! I 
don't mean we didn't talk; we talked about many other things, just not the most 
obvious ones. After seeing that it was no use, I finally just stopped raising these 
subjects.

After a while, I realized that this was turning into a bizarre kind of "date". 
Another hour went by, and another. I now had no idea what was on the tv. We 
talked about classes, professors, our future plans. At times I actually forgot my 
predicament, and laughed at his jokes! Eventually, we had moved far beyond 
small talk. We talked about our fears, hopes, and dreams; we shared intimate 
secrets. Pat seemed to know me like no stranger could.

Pat got up and turned off the overhead lights. By the light of the single lamp 
remaining, he made his way back to the couch, sitting down right next to me. 
He leaned over, gently put his hands around my head, and he gave me a long, 
tender kiss. I could hardly believe this - here I was, bound, naked, making out 
with a boy I had just met!

The board got in the way a little, but Pat ignored it.

Soon I was kissing him back; I became bold enough to french him shamelessly. 
A sudden coolness from evaporation told me I was getting wet below. 

We petted and made out on the couch as if we were two fully-dressed high 
school kids in the back seat of a car. I had never known a man who could make 
foreplay last so long when I was already unclothed. At last, I could stand it no 
longer. "Please, please..." I panted.

"Please...what?" asked Pat, as he kissed my breasts.

"Please put it in me..." I said.

"Don't you want it in your mouth first?" he asked.

"Yes," I said "I want to suck your cock." 

Pat quickly removed his clothes, grabbed my heels, and slowly approached my 
mouth with his dick. He put it in and began to gently pump my mouth. Using 
my feet as levers and my ass as the pivot point, he rocked me back and forth. 
Do you have any idea what a slut I felt like at that moment? But I was 
completely helpless. There was no way I could stop him from using my body 
even if I wanted to. There was nothing for me to do but enjoy it. 

He pulled out of my mouth, then kissed my closed eyelids. Then Pat interlaced 
his fingers with mine, and began to fuck me slowly. I lost track of how many 
times I came that night. 

When my last shuddering orgasm was over, Pat stood up and clapped his hands 
three times, saying, "The experiment is over, Beth, awake."

As he carefully helped me out of the stocks and handed me my robe, I 
remembered everything; how I had told my boyfriend Pat about my submissive 
fantasies, how Pat's friend had hypnotized me, and the fact that this floor of my 
dorm was empty since it was the end of the quarter. 

Later that night, as we in bed together, I asked Pat if he had any other fantasies 
planned for me.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said.

The End? 

--
