Tonight's the night. Even as I say it, there's a chill up my spine, in my groin. The end game, after two months of preparation, the last thirty days devoted exclusively to her. She's out there dancing, in that tight, inhibited way she has, but those neat tits, big and bouncy, in spite of her bra, making heads turn. The lovely blonde hair in a heavily sprayed flip. No more than two inch heels. I have imagined her with the hair wild, tall heels, slutty. Her typical Friday night, pick up someone she's met before at this brassy disco, let him take her home, but make him leave after he fucks her. A perfect candidate for my adventure. God, she's the best looking one yet.
Elizabeth Turner. That's her name. A paralegal for a good size law firm, mid five figure income, living what she thinks is a hip, with it life. Careful about who she spends her time with, wham, bam, thank you sir, now leave. She acts so staid, even on her night out, yet dresses to display herself sexily. Wide eyed innocence on a Playboy bunny's body. My instincts are pretty good by now, I just know she's repressing an erotic nature, the way a lot of young girls do. That's what makes it so much fun, so exciting.
I'm getting carried away, feeling giddy the way I always do at the start. Let me begin at the beginning. I'm a pretty good looking guy, tall, slim, no gut even over forty. I do fifty situps a day, and thirty push ups. I had a normal sort of sex life, the late seventies and early eighties gave me lots of experience, and good looking girls, if I say so myself. As I turned thirty, women my age became gradually less inhibited, even as their bodies began to age, willing to try lots of things they feared when they were younger. They give themselves more and more easily, losing themselves freely in sex. I loved it. It's true what they say about older women.
But, of course, young women are so much prettier, mostly. Firmer tits, tight asses, no flab, lithe, smiling, fresh pussies, just... better. But that damn inhibition, feeling that they're doing you a favor letting you make love to them, hump ten times, get themselves off, and good night. For a while there, I tried young ones, tried loosening them up, even some Extacy, but it didn't do much good. I even paid a young porn star one weekend, but she was still the same. She did whatever I asked, but didn't really enjoy it. I was feeling frustrated, and pissed off, when the trial occurred. That's where I got the idea, and the right formula.
This doctor had been using drugs to seduce his patients, and one of them finally spilled the beans. How the guy thought he could get away with it as long as he did is beyond me. I had filled prescriptions for a couple of the women, and had to testify briefly about it. But I sat through several days, since I had the time off anyway, and heard the medical expert describe the stuff in enough detail for me as a pharmacist to duplicate the things he gave them. The trick was, he'd get them on Demerol in his office, then follow them home, and when they took the barbiturate, barge in as it hit. The combination was pretty strong. He used enough so they were almost comatose, but the medical expert made the effect of smaller doses clear.
My first experiment was on a girl who already took a heavy speed dose anyway, and I slipped her the Demerol in a drink. That easy. Her name was Phyllis, tall, skinny, and had this rather mediocre boob job, pushed out breasts that were a little too taut. She got high, but real, real mellow. She was twenty three, and had let me fuck her once before. I took her to my house, laid her out nude, tied her up, and made love to her for three hours, finishing off with her screaming wildly as I shot up her ass. The next morning she made me do it again. She caused all kinds of trouble for me when I didn't want to see her again. That was five years ago.
That experience taught me several lessons. First, keep it away from home. Second, the whole process of losing their inhibitions happened fast, once you got over the hump. Third, they could get really vengeful when it was over. Phyllis had been on the verge of getting rabid anyway, and I fantasized about confident, in control women who could be "liberated".
The next time was the first I discovered this tendency I have to be both perverse and masterful. I had noticed a great looking woman who seemed to me to want to let loose but never did. She went to a club I frequented, more a bar than a dance place. She liked to flirt, but I saw her slap a couple of guys when they got fresh with her. After watching her do it about three times, the next Saturday night I brought a bottle of chloroform with me, followed her out to the parking lot after she did her teasing bit, and knocked her out just as she got to her car.
When I got her into the motel room I had rented, I put on this makeshift Zorro mask, gave her a shot of the Demerol and barb mixed, and was standing there, nude, as she woke up. My cock isn't anything special, but it's almost as long soft as when it gets hard. She came slowly to her senses, her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was this masked man standing there with a thick six inch dong. I was kind of waiting for her to scream, I had a gag all ready, but as she stared, I saw her floating with the drugs, and the look was a little terror, a little excitement, and a little smile. She kept trying to control herself, but the drugs did their work.
That look made my tool harden instantly. I crawled onto the bed, and started fingering her pussy. I had her wrists and legs tied to the bed. The whole thing was so fantastic I shot after fingering her for fifteen minutes, just watching the tension between her desire and fear. When she felt my jiz on her thighs, she groaned and started humping. I went ahead and brought her off with my hand. I started whispering to her that I wasn't going to rape her, or keep her there, unless she wanted me to. I untied her legs, started sucking on her twat, and after another couple of orgasms, she was begging me to fuck her. I did.
The next morning, I gave her another shot before she woke up. When I took her into the bathroom to pee, she stared at me, and as she let go her bladder, she whispered "Let me suck your cock". She was still floating, and I let her suck me to a nice nut. She surprised me by letting it shoot on her face, awfully nasty. That night, I fucked her ass, and when she woke up, I took a chance, and didn't give her another shot. She looked at me, I could see her mind thinking back, then gurgled "Do it again", trying to twist her ass around to me while still bound. I untied her and did, but never let her see my face.
I got to thinking it was going to be easy, but the next one fought it the whole next day, and I ended up letting her go without her giving in. She reported the incident to the police, but I had hidden my tracks well, and nothing ever came of it. I realized that maybe one day wasn't always enough. So I started going out on Fridays, to give me the whole weekend. Eventually, when I found a girl I really wanted to enjoy, I'd do it on holiday weekends, so even if they gave in after just one day, there'd be two more days of wild, fully consensual sex. When it worked just right, they'd kiss me goodbye, and breathe "Thank You".
I began to fantasize about the perfect woman. Young and great looking, I would liberate her, and she would end up joining me in doing it to other girls. In the last year, I've suggested it to a couple of them, and given them an email address where they could let me know. The only one who answered wrote "It was fantastic, but I just can't go that far, it's kidnapping, for Christ's sake."
By now, I had the costume I use, a black leather mask that doesn't cover my hair, the wide leather belt, and the leather arm bands. I had put together padded wrist and ankle restraints that won't hurt them. I would rent lofts, or bare apartments, for a month, with cash, anonomously, so I could continue a relationship with them after the first contact. Out of about ten, only one tried to get me caught, but I had learned to wait until I was sure the coast was clear the second "date", and saw the cops staked out. Her loss.
I began doing more and more research. I hacked into their credit files, and their state tax returns, planted bugs on their phones, and made sure I had a good profile. Elizabeth was as good a prospect as I had found. She was raised a Mormon, but didn't attend Church. That's a good sign, because the hypocrisy of religion is a terrific setup for a woman to suddenly break out. Her internet practices included several porn sites, like White Shadow's Nasty Stories. Another good sign. She would spend modestly for months, then suddenly splurge, usually with Victoria's Secret or Fredricks. A really good sign.
Damn. The guy she's been dancing with most of the night just split. The look on her face is pissed. She tosses down her drink, and heads toward the exit. Luck's on my side tonight. Won't even have to pay anyone to distract a guy. Since I know where her car is, I hurry past her, then double back to crouch down on the passenger side, away from the lights from the building. They all do the same thing. She pulls open the door, leaves it open as she uses the overhead light to search for her car keys, and I cover her mouth with the surgical cloth soaked in chloroform. She hardly struggles.
.... There is more of this story ...