Steamy Screams: Anthology of Erotic Horror

The night passed without incident. And the following morning, Bridgette was early to wake, the weight of her decision pulling her from any possible slumber.

Before even being able to register the pre-dawn haze just starting to filter past the blinds, Bridgette thought of what she had done. Joined a sex club. The words still didn’t feel like her.

Perhaps she was wrong to judge the freaks at Trans, she wondered. Maybe they truly did accept who they were, maybe they were free, just like they said. They had no illusions of what they were. But Bridgette seemed to have mixed feelings about herself; torn between what she wanted and what she felt she was or wasn’t.

And now, before the sun had barely peaked over the horizon, she didn’t feel horny anymore. She wasn’t intoxicated by the liquor and the charming words or the club’s salesman.

“I’ll call,” she said to the empty room. “Simply cancel.”

She wiped the sleep from her eyes, rolled over and reached for the phone on the nightstand. The plastic receiver felt cold against her ear, but even colder, and more disarming, was the silence from the device. She reached over farther and depressed the switch hook with her fingers, released and waited. Still no dial tone. Dead. Her cell phone was in the kitchen charging and—

The gloved hand clamped over her mouth—hard. Her eyes went wide with panic, but before she could move on her own, her body was being turned over—tangled deep within the bed sheets—and she was on her stomach. A body moved on top of her, crushing her further into the mattress.

Deja vu briefly as she felt hot breath against her ears. The body on top of her was grinding deeper into her, working its knee between her legs. The breathing intensified.

Walter?

The hand on her mouth was clothed in black leather. The steam building in her ear and the pulsating against her backside finally did it; slowly Bridgette’s fear began to melt away. Moist excitement began to build.

Was it Walter, or was this what she had joined for? Really, it didn’t matter. Either way, she was about to get taken, about to get fucked.

Over the heavy panting, she could barely hear the twang of a spring releasing its metal blade, but she heard his voice. “This is what you wanted, you fucking whore. Don’t think about resisting or I’ll make this hurt.”

Her body tightened slightly, the voice scared her, but it didn’t stop her juices from continuing to seep in the bed. It only heightened her anxiety over whether the man was Walter or not. The man was talking too gravelly—on purpose—to be clearly recognized.

Suddenly, the sheet was being cut away from her tangled legs. His hands released her throat, but he continued to keep her pinned with his body weight. Even with her mouth free, Bridgette didn’t scream. She thought about calling out apples, just to stop the charade and see who it was, but that would ruin the moment—and so far she hadn’t been able to enjoy a proper role play yet—, so she remained silent. A strip of bedding went over her eyes, tied tight at the back. Now blindfolded, the man pulled her arms back and bound the wrists in the same manner.

The position was not comfortable, but it wasn’t the kind of pain she’d experienced the other night when Walter pulled her arms backwards. Perhaps he was learning, or perhaps she had made a great decision joining the sex club.

The man was strong, in just a few seconds he was off Bridgette and flipping her onto her back. Hands went around her ankles, she felt herself skidding across fabric, and then nothing. Her ass was free in the air for a split second, her stomach tightened and then she fell. Bridgette let out a grunt as her behind connected with the floor; the blade was suddenly against her neck, cold and hard.

She pressed her back into the side of the bed.

“You have such a pretty mouth,” the mystery man rasped. The next sound Bridgette heard from behind her blindfold was the metallic zipper of blue jeans. A part of her wanted to reach out and grab the man’s bulge, feel its heat and weight in her hands, take her time and please him. But she didn’t dare move. He was in control, and that was what she truly wanted; she would feel him soon enough.

And feel it she did. Warm flesh rubbing smoothly over her lips. Bridgette clenched down as the man tried to slide his cock into her mouth, blocking his entrance. He pushed his rod twice more against her teeth. Bridgette held.

We’ll see how good this guy really is, she thought.

Suddenly the tender flesh was gone and back was the cold steel, this time against her cheek, and a strong hand. The hand forced her mouth open. “There we go. And you better play nice.” The blade tapped lightly against her check, “Or else I’ll give you a new smile.”

The hand and blade left as the man stood up, Bridgette could see the faintest of shadows through her blindfold. She knew it was coming and braced herself just before he plunged himself into her waiting mouth.

Bridgette heard him groan as his thick shaft slid further back into her mouth. He was long and she felt herself start to gag, she tried to bring her hands forward, then realized they were bound behind her. She let her head lean back until it was against the bed, but still he pushed, cutting off all air. Bridgette gagged again, and he slowly pulled out; saliva fell from her mouth and clung in long strands to his rock hard cock.

“You’re gonna learn to deep throat.”

With those words he was back inside her, not too deep though, still comfortable. Bridgette relaxed her throat, and focused on the man’s grunts and moans. She focused on the way his warm cock throbbed inside her mouth. The thoughts made her wet.

When he plunged deeper again, she swallowed him greedily. Taking his thick meat down into her throat, Bridgette massaged his shaft with the muscles of her esophagus. He gripped the sides of her head by her hair and pushed further. The cartilage of her nose pressed against his strong abdomen. He cried out and Bridgette braced herself for the onslaught of sticky cum, but there was nothing. With another cry he wretched himself free and picked her up. He turned her and bent her over the side of the bed.

With one swipe, he cut away the thong Bridgette wore to bed, exposing her backside, moist and vulnerable, to him. He leaned forward and stuffed the panties, wet with her own juices, into Bridgette’s mouth and tied another strip of bed sheet around both her head and mouth. Suddenly, Bridgette felt unsure. A hand over the mouth was ok. You could bite and give the safe words. Now she was gagged.

She tried to speak, to explain, but only muffled sounds escaped. The man leaned over her, his large cock pressing against the skin of her inside thigh. “Can’t have you screaming.”

The man grabbed the top of her hair and pulled her head back, simultaneously ramming himself into her tight hole. Bridgette was well lubricated with her own desire, but she was unprepared for the brute force of the man. She cried out against the cloth in her mouth.

He leaned over her again, cock placed firmly inside her, “This is what you wanted, you dirty whore, remember?”

This isn’t Walter.

Her pussy relaxed as he pulled out, but the relief was short lived. She was doubly unprepared for the pain as the man tore into her ass. Her natural juices, still slick on his penis, were not enough to quell the pain and she cried out repeatedly. Her attempts at safe words did not deter the man. She tried to push the gag off with her tongue, no use. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to be tied up, she didn’t want to be at anyone’s mercy or push the thresholds of pain and pleasure. She wanted to be back in bed, alone, safe.

She kicked back with her legs trying to strike the man, and then the knife was back to her throat, but it wasn’t threatening this time; it was slicing! The pain in her torn anus was muted as the blade drew across her flesh, severing skin. Warm blood began to flow down her neck. Bridgette froze with terror, not even trying to speak. The man pulled out of her and flipped her over. Weak and shocked, she slid off the bed, back into the position she maintained when he had violated her mouth.

Bridgette felt dizzy as the warmth continued down her throat, staining her white undershirt. Her only thoughts were from her friends and family.

Forget what you think you want, really think about it. What kind of a man would want to role play that way with you?

What kind of a person pretends to rape? It’s not just a sexy game. If they could pretend such a thing, they could actually do it. And if they could do that, what else are they capable of?