“You look like a really bad boy. Wanna have some fun?”

Stephanie Thompson felt a thrill of excitement at being so brazen, because it was so far out of character for her. But then, that was her entire purpose here. She wanted to change her life, and this was the start of that change.

Stephanie was in her early thirties and had spent the last ten years doing what was expected of her. She worked in the University library, and matched everyone’s image of the stereotypical librarian - unmarried, quiet, unassuming, always conservatively - even dowdily - dressed. Everyone knew that there were no surprises with ‘nice, quiet’ Stephanie. What you saw was what you got.

She rarely dated and, when she did, it would always be with some quiet, studious young man. A serious and deep relationship would usually develop, slowly and shyly, sometimes but not always leading to an awkward intimacy culminating, on rare occasions, with consummation in her single bed, missionary position, lights out. These liaisons generally ended when the young man moved on to pursue an academic career elsewhere. Stephanie, ever reluctant to leave her safe environment, was always left behind.

And then one day, for no apparent reason other than it being her birthday, something had finally snapped. I’m thirty two, she thought, and it’s like I’m already dead! I want to feel alive, to feel wanted, desired. I want to feel something. Anything.

She continued to project her buttoned-down persona at home and work but, one fateful weekend, she became someone entirely different, someone her family, friends and colleagues would never recognise.

She let her black hair down, releasing it from its tight bun to fall about her shoulders. The black-rimmed spectacles were replaced by contact lenses, and her barely-there makeup became bright and garish, with blood-red glossy lipstick and heavy mascara.

Her tweed skirt and plain blouse were replaced by black plastic miniskirt and red latex crop-top, leaving her midriff exposed. Her sensible Marks & Spencer’s underwear became a black thong and nothing else, ensuring her prominent nipples were obvious through the thin rubber. Her high denier tights were replaced by black fishnet stockings, and her sensible brogues by vertiginously high heels.

Nervously, she made her way to the roughest bar to be found on the seedy side of town. When she had entered this alien and intimidating environment, she had been hit on by most of the single guys in the place but, while flattered and reassured by their attention, they didn’t quite meet her exacting requirements, and she politely but firmly refused them all.

She was looking for a particular type of man to give her a particular type of experience. Details were hazy in her mind, but the general idea was of a one night stand with a total stranger, full of meaningless sex, the rougher the better. She now thought she had found the man to deliver that fantasy.

The subject of her attention was leaning against the bar, clearly on his own and happy that way. He seemed to exude a force which discouraged any contact - people would actually make a detour to avoid getting too close.

His face wasn’t classically good-looking. In fact, most women would have avoided him at all costs. He was tall and well-built, his obvious strength adding to his intimidating presence. He wore a denim shirt, leather waistcoat, ripped and oil-stained denim jeans and motorcycling boots. He was about forty, and it looked as though they had been hard years, leaving him with a gaunt and mean expression.

He looked around to see who had had the temerity to speak to him, and scanned Stephanie appraisingly from head to foot, taking in every aspect of her slutty appearance. Immediately, he detected something not quite right. Her make-up was too perfect, her clothes slightly too good a quality, her demeanour rather too nervous for someone dressed like that. He knew that this wasn’t some cheap hooker, but something more. That intrigued him.

“What did you have in mind, darling?” he growled disdainfully. He had an American accent - a southern drawl? - and that just added to his mystery and allure, as far as Stephanie was concerned.

“Well, we could fuck,” she blurted, with a bravado fuelled by some alcohol and a lot of over-excitement.

“Yeah? What else?” he responded offhandedly, careful not to express any obvious interest in her suggestion. Stephanie was both surprised and excited by his response and, like some schoolgirl in front of a favourite teacher, she felt she needed to impress him.

“Whatever you want,” she shot back at him as nonchalantly as she could, “what do you have in mind?”

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he replied opaquely, “I’m not sure you’d like ‘em, though.” The look on his face challenged her, expecting her to either demand more details or to chicken out.

“Well, only one way to find out,” Stephanie said enthusiastically. “I hope I’m not going to be disappointed, I’m looking for a real man.”

“Come on then, honey,” he said, knocking back the rest of his drink, “let’s see if I can live up to your high expectations.” He got up and walked towards the exit to the parking lot, not waiting to see if Stephanie was following, although the sound of her heels clicking on the floorboards indicated that she was.

Outside, he led her to his motorbike and, putting on his helmet, straddled the bike. He waited until Stephanie had clambered on board behind him, before firing up the engine and accelerating out of the car park. Taken by surprise by the acceleration, Stephanie put her arms around him and clung on, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt appreciatively. It hadn’t been a major consideration in her decision, but the fact that he had a fit body added to Stephanie’s excitement.

The cold air made her shiver, but she found the ride exhilarating, the wind blowing back her hair as she pressed her body close to his. She’d never been on a motorbike, and riding without a helmet made her feel wildly transgressive, like the bad girl she projected. This is going to be an amazing night, she thought. She was right, but not quite in the way she expected.

He drove at high speed a few miles to the edge of town and, to Stephanie’s surprise, pulled into an industrial estate and brought the bike to a halt behind a dark, rather rundown, workshop set back a little and somewhat isolated from the other buildings.

“What is this place?” Stephanie asked as he unlocked the door and led her inside. She noticed that he locked the door behind them and pocketed the key, and wondered whether that was to ensure their privacy or to prevent any thought of backing out. The action merely heightened her nervous excitement even further.

When he put on the lights, she saw that there was an large open workspace on the ground floor, which looked as though it had been used previously for auto maintenance, while there were offices above, looking down on the open space.

“This is where I live,” the man replied, leading Stephanie out into the workshop, “I’ve got rooms adapted up there - kitchen, bathroom, living room, bedroom.”

“Interesting,” she remarked, “you must like the isolation.”

“Let’s cut the small talk” he said gruffly, “we both know what we’re here for.”

“I guess so,” Stephanie nodded, “where are we going? Upstairs?”

“I didn’t bring you here so we could have a late-night nightcap. Take off anything you don’t want to get ripped off.”

Stephanie looked at the man hungrily, excited by the thought of her clothes being ripped off, and noticed his total confidence that she would not demur at this peremptory order. She put her handbag on the nearby work surface, unclipped her skirt with shaking fingers, pulled her top over her head, and put them alongside her bag. Now naked apart from her thong, suspender belt, stockings and shoes, she stood and waited breathlessly to see what he would do next.

“You’ve got a killer body, sugar, that’s for sure. I’m going to enjoy fucking that later,” he remarked as he pulled two chains dangling from the ceiling along the track in which they ran until they were hanging either side of Stephanie.

She watched mutely as he lifted her arms up one at a time, and wrapped the adjacent chain several times around her wrist, before locking it in place with the heavy-duty padlock he took from his pocket. By the time he had finished, her arms were held high in the air by the chains.

“Ooh, now I can’t resist, what do you intend to do with me?” she giggled a little uncertainly, her voice trembling with excitement.

“Anything I damn well please,” he replied and, taking her completely by surprise, slapped her hard across the cheek, the sound reverberating around the large open space. Stephanie let out a cry at the unexpected assault, more in shock than in pain, and began to wonder if she had made a bad mistake.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?!” she cried out. An instant later, her other cheek was stinging from a blow with the back of his hand. Now she stared at him in fear and trepidation.

“That was to put you in your place, bitch!” he growled, just inches from her face. “I’m so glad I ran into you tonight. I was looking for a new BDSM playmate, but I never expected to find anyone as beautiful or gullible as you! I’m so going to enjoy this. I usually have to soft-pedal with a new girl, but you - you offered yourself up like a sacrificial lamb! No conditions, no limits, just ‘do whatever you want’. Perfect!”

Stephanie frantically tried to pull her hands free, but there was no possibility of escape. BDSM, she thought, what does that even mean?! Bondage? S&M?! Oh shit, what have I got myself into?!

She watched helplessly as the man, now her captor, stripped off his waistcoat and shirt to reveal a well-muscled body. He walked towards her, carrying something which she didn’t recognise until he forced the large ball into her mouth and buckled the strap tightly behind her head.

“I want you to know that I’m not gagging you to prevent you screaming or shouting for help,” he explained as he brushed the hair out of her face, “we’re miles from anyone who might hear you. I don’t care about the noise. In fact, I’ll enjoy listening to your screams, and your begging for mercy, muffled and distorted as they’ll be.

“No, the main appeal of the gag is visual. I love the way the black leather of the strap cuts across the pale skin of your cheek, and also the way the ball stretches your luscious red lips so tightly.” As he said this, he ran his finger along the strap and then around her lips.

“The other thing is that, while I like the inarticulate noises you’re going to be making, I don’t want to listen to your pathetic whining about this not being what you wanted from your evening, and telling me I have to let you go because you changed your mind. Well, that’s just tough, bitch!”

He brought his hand up before her face, and Stephanie was terrified to see that he was holding a knife. Oh my God, she thought, he’s some kind of psychopath! He’s going to cut me into little pieces!

He smiled when he saw her expression, pleased that he had created exactly the reaction he desired. He lowered the knife and sliced through the sides of her thong before pulling the ruined garment from her and tossing it aside. Stephanie closed her eyes and gave a sigh of relief. She wasn’t going to be cut - at least not right now.

“I like this piece of equipment,” he said, making Stephanie open her eyes in alarm, to be confronted by the sight of a flogger held in front of her face. “It can deliver just a gentle sting, or an intense level of pain, depending what I decide, but it doesn’t result in permanent or severe damage to the skin, which would limit the fun - my fun, that is. I don’t expect you will enjoy it much, but then that isn’t important, at least not to me.” Stephanie shook her head violently side to side and mewled into the gag, but his only response was a leering smile.

She watched him until he walked out of sight behind her. She closed her eyes, gripped the chains and bit down on the ball in her mouth, steeling herself for what was to come. I’ve been so stupid, she thought, why didn’t I just stay at home?!

When the pain arrived, it was worse than she had imagined. The sound of leather slapping against skin echoed around the workshop for a moment, before it was drowned out by the sound of her scream, which quickly descended into racking sobs.

He listened intently, enjoying the vocal confirmation of her suffering, and waited until the sound had receded and her muscles had relaxed, before he brought the flogger back across her shoulder blades. Another scream erupted from the helpless woman, and she twisted reflexively, pulling at her bonds in desperation. It all added to his enjoyment of the spectacle, and he repeated the torment again and again, each time waiting until she thought that, maybe, he had finished, before bringing the flogger down once more against her reddening flesh.

When the skin across her shoulders and upper back were a bright red and criss-crossed by a myriad of thin welts, he decided that she had probably had enough, he didn’t want to end up breaking through and leaving her with a mass of bloody, weeping sores. He switched the point of his attack to her hips, buttocks and thighs, enjoying the fresh urgency of her screams as she realised that her ordeal was to continue with another target under attack.

He was breathing heavily by the time he finally decided to stop the beating. Stephanie was now hanging limply by her chained wrists, and he idly wondered whether she had fainted. He walked around in front of her and, taking hold of a handful of hair, lifted her head off her chest and looked into her face.

Strands of hair were plastered against her forehead by the coating of perspiration. Her eye make-up had given up its water resistant properties and was streaked down across her flushed cheeks, mingled with the tears and sweat. Snot had run down from her pretty nose and flowed over her top lip to coat the silicone ball between her teeth. Saliva bubbled and foamed around the ball and on her bottom lip, before sliding down her chin and forming long strands of drool to her chest. How much prettier she is like this, he thought, not just any other attractive woman, but my pain slut!

Slowly, her eyelids flickered open, and he saw the look of desolation in her eyes and heard the silent begging for mercy. He felt another surge of arousal at this evidence of his power over her, and decided he must slake his thirst for her body soon.

Stephanie gave silent thanks to whatever God might be listening that the awful beating had ended. The face of her captor and torturer swam before her blurred vision, before her head lolled back onto her chest, but she continued to see his evil smile behind her closed eyelids. She tried to think of some way of escape, but all rational thoughts were driven from her mind by the necessity to try and cope with the throbbing pain from her back and buttocks.

She heard the rattling of chains and, hoping that this might indicate her release, she wearily raised her head and looked up. To her disappointment, the chains which were making the noise were not those to which she was locked, but two new chains which the man positioned in front of her. What new hell is this, she wondered.

The man grabbed her right leg and lifted it until it was parallel to the ground. Stephanie realised what he was going to do and fought to pull herself free, but he merely tightened his grip, digging his fingernails painfully into her calf muscle. As he wound the chain around her stocking-clad ankle, she continued to kick out desperately, but only succeeded in losing her shoe.

He bound her left ankle in the same way, the only difference being that, as soon as he lifted her standing leg, she cried out in pain as all her body weight was now carried by her wrists, and the metal links of the chains dug cruelly into her tender flesh. She was now suspended in the air, her legs splayed wide and she hung there, waiting fearfully for his next move.

When he next came into view and walked towards her, the man was naked, and she automatically looked down to his groin to see what she assumed she would be receiving next. He was just normally endowed, rather than a freak or porn star, but far more frightening was the cane he was flexing in his hands.

He slashed it through the air several times, and the whistling sound it created scared Stephanie even more than the flogger had. She whined and shook her head as he approached her, tears welling up in her eyes as the danger came closer.

He began to torment her with short, sharp blows to her breasts, beating out a fast-paced rhythm, frequently targeting her nipples for particular attention. Stephanie writhed and bucked under the attack, making all four chains holding her sway and jangle. She threw her head back and sobbed, fresh tears springing from her eyes as the cane moved on to strike her armpits, waist and hips. Once again, he drank in her anguish like an intoxicating liquor.

When he changed the focus of his attention to the soft flesh of her inner thighs, Stephanie’s head snapped up and she stared into his eyes, her own reflecting her anguish, fear and confusion. She violently shook her head ‘NO’ as the cane moved inexorably towards the tops of her thighs, towards… His face was now flushed and locked in a rictus grin while, to her alarm, she saw that he was fully erect.

Finally unable to resist her bound form any longer, he threw aside the cane and positioned himself between her thighs. He grabbed her buttocks, one in each clawing hand, his nails digging in sharply, and pulled her onto his shaft. He thrust into her rapidly and as violently as he could, relishing her grunts and cries as she bounced on the chains like a puppet. Yes, he thought, take that, you fucking bitch! There’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me! I have all the power, and you’re nothing but my fuck toy!

At the same time, Stephanie found herself trying to deal with a blizzard of different sensations and emotions. There was still the pain - her back and behind had subsided to a dull ache, but her breasts and thighs were still throbbing from the beating they had taken from the cane. Added to that was the vicious bite of the chains at her wrists and ankles.

And now she was being raped, violently and without mercy. His initial penetration hurt immensely as he drove into her unlubricated vagina, and she let out a scream. But, to her astonishment, the situation quickly changed as her mind and body responded to the violation by releasing a flood of fluids into her pussy and a cocktail of hormones into her bloodstream. Soon, she found herself thrusting her hips forward in sync with his rhythm, maximising the intensity of the stimulation she received.

She was stunned by her own reactions. Oh my God, this can’t be happening, she thought feverishly, I’m going to have a fucking orgasm! I’m such a slut! You’ve got to stop yourself, Steph, it’ll be so humiliating if he thinks he did this! Oh Jesus, who am I kidding?! I can’t stop myself! I’m cumming!

Stephanie screamed out her climax, spasming uncontrollably in the bondage as she did so. Moments later, the man came as well, shouting as he shot his hot semen into her. Sated, he staggered away, leaving her twisting and swaying in the chains, barely conscious.

She became aware of her surroundings again when she felt her ankles being freed and her feet being allowed to fall back to the floor. She tried to support her weight on her legs, but had no strength left and, as her wrists were unlocked, she slid helplessly down until she was lying prone.

This is my chance to escape, she thought wearily, I have to get up and run for my life! Come on, now! Move, you stupid bitch! But, when she put her hand down and tried to push herself up, her body didn’t move. Instead, she lay there, relishing the feel of the cool concrete against her burning skin and, gradually, her breathing became slow and calm as she drifted into sleep.

She didn’t know how long she slept, but she was rudely awoken by her arms being pulled roughly behind her back and rope tightly bound around her wrists and elbows. She could do nothing to resist, and soon the rope had been wound around her body - across her chest, crushing her breasts, around her waist, and tied to each thigh.

Her back arched, and her shoulders and hips were lifted off the floor as the ropes were pulled tight to something above her. Her legs were bent up and ropes attached to her ankles which were also forced up behind her back, towards the common point below which her body now hung, barely touching the ground. She heard the whirring of a motor and she was lifted into the air, her whole body weight now resting against the ropes, driving the air from her lungs and making it alarmingly difficult to draw breath.

The man walked around his prize, admiring his handiwork. Stephanie hung from the hook of the winch, about three feet above the floor, gently twisting at the end of the steel hawser. He ran his fingers over her body, appreciating the raised welts where he had thrashed her and the indentations made by the ropes holding her, like a blind man reading Braille.

He unbuckled and removed the ballgag, releasing a stream of saliva which Stephanie tried to prevent escaping from her lips, but the stiffness of her jaw prevented her from closing her mouth quickly enough. It drooled onto the floor below.

“Please, let me go,” she croaked, “I can’t – AAAH AH AH NRRGH!” Any further words were cut off as her mouth was filled by a new gag, a leather-covered steel ring lodging tight behind her teeth and forcing her jaws wide apart once more. This gag was part of a harness, and the thick leather straps which went either side of her nose obscured her sight as they met at a ring laid against her forehead. From there, a single strap ran across her scalp and buckled at the back with the gag straps. One other leather belt passed under her chin, holding the entire harness so tightly that she could barely move a muscle on her face.

Her captor attached a thin rope to the D-ring at the top of the harness and tied it to the hook, pulling her head up and back until she was forced to stare directly ahead. Now she was in the perfect position, but he knew he needed a little extra stimulation before he was ready for her. He picked up the riding crop and walked around her, identifying his targets.

The fibreglass shaft of the crop swiped down across the soles of Stephanie’s feet, and tears came to her eyes once more as she realised that her suffering was not yet over. The crop struck her wherever the rope web holding her aloft allowed, and she was immediately thrown back into a world of pain.

The most traumatic blows was delivered directly against the bound woman’s defenceless pussy. Stephanie howled in anguish as the stiff leather patch at the tip of the riding crop beat out a high tempo on the most sensitive part of her body.

His erection now fully restored, the man walked around in front of his victim and looked down into her face, the evil smile once more in place. He wiped away her tears, smudging her ruined make-up even further. He traced out the lines of the gag harness, loving how tightly it fit, the steel rings pressing into her cheeks and forehead. He idly tugged at a few stray strands of hair caught under the gag strap and was impressed by how difficult it was to release them. He stroked the back of her head, his fingers slowly curling into her hair, and chuckled as the random inconsequentiality of his actions served to escalate her nervousness and discomfort.

Without warning, he pulled her head forward abruptly, and his erection rammed through the ring between her teeth to the back of her throat. The sound of her gagging and choking aroused him even further, and he rubbed himself on her tongue to stimulate himself. He quickly reached his climax, spurting into her mouth, watching the cum and saliva form a small pool as she blocked her throat to prevent having to swallow it.

Spitefully, he pinched her nose, cutting off her air supply and leaving her no option but to gulp the unsavoury mixture so that she could draw breath. He enjoyed watching the panic and then disgust on her face, as well as the last of his semen dribbling down her chin. Having satisfied himself sexually, he picked up the riding crop and sought out new targets for his attention and her torment.

Stephanie endured the pain and tried to shut out all thought about what she was suffering and why, it was just too awful to contemplate. She tuned out and drifted away to some other place, somewhere which didn’t include ropes, and being beaten. Eventually, she drifted so far that she managed to lose touch with reality.

When she reconnected, she realised that she was no longer suspended in the air, no longer bound or gagged. She was lying on the floor and, for a moment, she was alone and everything was quiet. She knew this was another opportunity to try to escape, but she also knew that she didn’t have the strength to do anything about it.

The moment quickly passed, and she heard footsteps approaching. She managed to turn her head and saw that her attacker was once again dressed in jeans, shirt and boots, and was carrying some leather items. The toe of his boot dug under her side and flipped her over onto her stomach. The nightmare continued as she felt her arms pulled behind her back and restrained.

He forced her limp arms into the single glove, buckling the straps over her shoulders and tightening the laces to pull her limbs close together.

“Please, no more!” Stephanie begged in a hoarse whisper, “I can’t take any-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” he spat as he wrapped the panel gag across the lower half of her face, forcing the mouth-filling phallus on the inside of the panel between her teeth. Having fastened it tightly in place, he dragged her to her feet by her hair and marched her across the workshop.

“Don’t worry, cunt, it’s time for you to rest anyway.” He pushed her down on her knees in front of a sturdy, wire-framed cage, then forced her to crawl inside it. Stephanie felt his boot against her buttock thrust her into the small space and heard him padlocking it shut behind her.

She watched as he dragged the winch hook over and attached it to the top of the cage. With the whine of the motor, she began to rise up to the ceiling high above. Her fear of heights now added a new terror to her situation, as the floor receded and she was left with nothing but thin wire between her and the frightening drop.

She saw the man walk away across the workshop to the door leading to the upstairs rooms. He turned and looked up at her, giving her a smile and a wave, before switching off the workshop lights, plunging her into total darkness. This frightened her even more, as now she couldn’t see the cage which was stopping her from falling, and the distance to the floor, which had been terrifying, was now unknown, making it even more scary.

A light came on in one of the upstairs windows, which were now slightly below where Stephanie was suspended. She saw the man again, but only briefly as he drew the heavy curtains, reducing the light to just a dim square.

Stephanie broke down in desperate sobs, feeling utterly bereft and hopeless. When she managed to calm herself somewhat, she tried to make herself comfortable in the cage, but it was too small to turn around or to straighten out. Finally, giving up on comfortable, she lay on her side, folding herself into the available space as best she could.

Despite her terror, the pain still coursing around her body, and the dark thoughts of what was to come racing in her mind, she eventually succumbed to her exhaustion and fell into a troubled sleep.