Hanging In The Balance


Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Heterosexual, Fiction, Horror, Rough, Sadistic, Sex Toys, Slow, Caution, Violent, .

Desc: Sex Story: Pretty school teacher is surprised by home invasion.

Thirty-seven year old Sandra sighed deeply as she pulled into her driveway. Tonight she faced the mountainous task of wading through her English students' midterm tests. Not her idea of a great evening by a long shot, but it had to be done and that was all there was to it.

Still, tomorrow was Tuesday and that gave her something to look forward to. Sandra taught English at the local community college, in addition she coached the college theater every Tuesday and Thursday, something she really enjoyed.

She was a popular professor by all accounts; her students usually found her approachable on a whole range of issues, not just those relating to course work. She was slim and stylish, with auburn shoulder length hair that always seemed to have a glossy sheen. The fact that Sandra was attractive and also single was an added bonus to the boys in her classes.

Over the years she had got used to seeing the distant look in some of their eyes during her class, lost to their own thoughts which undoubtedly revolved around her.

Sandra retrieved her briefcase from the backseat of the Honda and eased her slender frame out of the car.She carried the briefcase into the living room and set it down on the table before heading across to open the window drapes she had forgotten to open that morning.

Just as she was about to open the drapes a sound behind distracted her. Before she could turn around, a strong leather clad hand clamped across her mouth, pulling her sharply back to press against the body behind.

Everything happened so quickly. Her startled cry died in her throat. Her eyes widened in shocked fear as an evil looking knife flashed before her eyes. The ice cold metal rested against her throat, sending a wave of nauseating fear through her body.

"Not a sound bitch!" A deep voice uttered in her ear. "One peep and I slice — understand?"

Sandra nodded her head quickly. Slowly the gloved hand moved away from her mouth, pausing guardedly, ready to clamp back in place should she scream.

"Please... don't hurt me... what do you want — I have money, it's in my purse." Sandra whined distraughtly.

The blade moved dangerously against her throat as he tugged her hard, pressing her body back into his.

"I didn't come here for your money BITCH!" He snarled.

"Please... I'll give you anything you want, just don't hurt me." She pleaded. In the back of her mind the implication of what she had just said dawned. Perhaps it would be better not to resist, but just get it over with.

"Put your hands together behind your back. Try anything clever and you'll regret it — understand?"

She nodded her head, the tears beginning to well in her eyes. The knife vanished from her throat, moments later she could feel him binding her wrists together. When he had finished he turned her around and pushed her towards the staircase.

"Up the stairs bitch — do exactly as you're told and you won't get hurt."

He followed her closely, keeping the knife point pressed against her back while his other hand held her firmly by her bound wrists. She walked reluctantly ahead of him in her high heeled shoes, dreading the ordeal that awaited her upstairs in the bedroom, but just as anxious to get it over with.

She climbed the stairs cautiously, trying not to let her hips sway too much in her skirt as he grasped her hands tightly. Glancing upwards she suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Her eyes widened in fear and she started shaking...

"No... no... please don't." She wailed.

"Shut the fuck-up! I said you wouldn't get hurt if you did as you were told —now move it bitch!" He pushed her on up the stairs.

Sandra crept up the stairs in slow motion as he prodded her from behind, her eyes never leaving the rope noose tied to the heavy beam positioned between the banister rails. She tasted the bile rising in the back of her throat from the utter fear that gripped her body.

Sandra stalled several times as she climbed the stairs, but the knife point poking into the back of her ribs kept urging her onward. She finally stopped one step lower than the noose's position. Tears were running down her cheeks leaving dark trails of mascara in their wake.

Sandra's legs were starting to shake when his hand pulled the noose down and over her head. As he tightened the noose around her slender neck she lost control and wet herself, gushing pee down her thighs and splashing into a puddle over and around her high heels.

"Well aren't you a pretty little piss pot?" He almost laughed as he said it.

Only moments earlier he quickly stepped back to avoid being splashed, but was too late and it splashed onto his jeans and shoes. He considered untying her to have her clean it up, but then had a better idea.

Grabbing her blouse with his left hand, he yanked it out from the back of her tight skirt. Still holding it, he carefully but quickly slit it with his knife from the bottom up and through the collar. He then stuck the knife into the wall to free up his hands.

With her hands bound behind her, and her neck in the noose, she could do little to resist. Reaching around the front of her blouse with both hands, he ripped it open sending the buttons flying helter skelter, bouncing off the hardwood steps. The blouse halves were now nothing more than sleeves. He retrieved the knife from the wall, and cut both sleeves freeing it from her arms.

Sandra had momentarily been distracted from the rope around her neck by her sudden disrobing. The man on the steps took the pieces of her blouse and wiped off his shoes, and then wiped her own pee from her calves and feet. Taking the other half of the blouse he threw it into the puddle at her feet. After a few seconds the fabric turned a dirty yellow and he picked it back up. Suddenly Sandra's head was yanked backed when he savagely grabbed a handful of her dark copper colored hair. As her head tilted backwards, her mouth gaped open and she gasped in pain. Sandra's eyes were bugging out as she saw the wadded up, pee soaked blouse in front of her face.

"Pull another stunt like that or even think about screaming, and this piss rag gets shoved in yer' mouth... Got it?" He said calmly into her ear.

"Ye-ess..." Sandra sobbed.

He laughed at her, and said, "Oh, you might just get gagged a little later. But it won't be some pissy rag."

It didn't take Sandra's master's degree in English to figure out that meaning.

Relieved at avoiding being gagged with her own pee soaked blouse, Sandra concentrated on maintaining her balance while wearing the high heels. She heard her captor walk back down the stairs after he had removed her blouse and she tried to steal a glimpse of his whereabouts. The rope allowed her to tilt her head somewhat without choking her completely, and her eyes grew large when she saw how close her heels were to the back edge of the step.

She carefully shuffled her feet forward a few inches while maintaining her balance. Parting her ankles slightly also made her more stable, but it also had the effect of reducing her height and therefore made the rope slightly tighter around her neck. She settled on a compromise, halfway between the two. She didn't have long to wait before she heard his steps climbing back towards her again.

His hand touched her bare back, causing her to quiver with fear. She was still wearing her bra and that at least afforded her some modesty, but when life hangs in the balance, modesty seems less significant. Nonetheless, that didn't stop her heart from skipping a beat as she felt his hand slid down her back to fiddle with the catch of her skirt. The waistband went slack as the zip slid downward, and then the wet material slipped down her legs.

"Lift your feet, cunt," he ordered.

He reached out to steady her arm, as she slowly raised each foot. He pulled the skirt free from her feet, throwing it down the steps. Sandra jumped when she felt his rough hands yank her pee soaked panties down over her hips. A small shiver passed though her as the cool air wafted up her damp thighs as her panties descended down her legs, leaving her feel totally exposed and vulnerable to her assailant. When he applied pressure to the back of her knees, she was reluctantly forced to lift each foot again, allowing him to remove her panties.

Standing behind her, he noticed her breathing had increased as her chest expanded and contracted. He admired her pale skin as his eyes traveled over her, noting the freckles on her shoulders. Her ass was a little large for such a slender woman, but her small trim waist made the swell of her hips even more pronounced.

As he stood behind the attractive redhead, the attacker pulled a dark scarf from his pants pocket. His earlier scouting into one of her dressers had located the scarf he now held. He placed the scarf around her head and tied it tightly into a tight granny knot at the back of her head. The sheer material allowed her some sight, but the poor light and the blindfold would provide all the protection he needed to remain anonymous.

With his hand on the swell of her hip, he moved up the steps in front of Sandra. She could feel his hot breath exhaling against her belly as he sat on the step in front of her. Sandra shuddered slightly as she felt his rough hands upon her bare skin. His fingers were lightly tracing her hips and barely touching her sides.

With her eyes covered, Sandra had to depend on her other senses and the blindfold seemed to heighten her sense of touch at the moment. As his fingers gently played over her belly, the fingers moved higher and she felt one finger slide under the junction of her bra.

"Don't move a muscle," he almost whispered to her.

.... There is more of this story ...

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