Part 4: Final Lesson
Bradley Scott’s eyes widened slightly as Helen Adler entered his room. On her previous visits, Helen had worn what looked like the same baggy sweat outfit, as if to hide her body from view. Understandable, in his mind, considering what she’d been through.
“Do you like?” she asked with a nervous smile, the hem of her dress brushing the floor as she turned slowly.
“Most definitely,” Brad replied sincerely. With its high neckline and long sleeves, the dress concealed her nearly as well as the sweat suit had, but was much less baggy, allowing hints of the curves beneath to show.
“I was getting tired of that old sweat suit,” she told him, then grinned. “And I fixed the wet panties problem.”
“How did you do that?”
“I think,” Helen replied, “that I want to try something new today. Stricter, tighter. Any suggestions?”
“I think I can come up with something. Are you going to answer my question?”
“Maybe. So what do you have in mind?”
“Well,” Brad began slowly, “what I’m thinking of, we can’t use the chair. I’m afraid you’ll have to lay on the bed. Or on the floor, if you prefer.”
Helen gazed at him for a long moment, then turned and moved to the bed. Eyes never leaving his, she stretched herself out slowly, then asked, “What next?”
“You’ll need to be face down for this,” Brad replied. Another glance, then Helen rolled onto her stomach.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Brad’s concern was plain in his voice. “We have been going pretty fast, you know.”
Helen shook her head. “Not fast,” she said softly. “Steady. So far, you’ve pretty much let me set the pace, let me decide how much I can handle. That means a lot to me, just like everything else you’ve done. I’m still nervous, and a little bit scared, but every time you bind me, I find myself enjoying it that much more. So stop talking and make me helpless.” Another nervous smile. “Please?”
Smiling, Brad gathered the things he needed, placing them on the bed. Helen eyed the small pile speculatively.
“Rope today? Ok.” Almost casually, she placed her hands behind her, only a slight tension in her arms betraying her nervousness.
Gently, Brad turned her hands palm to palm. Taking up a doubled length of rope, he carefully wound the strands around her wrist, finally cinching and knotting the rope securely. Helen tugged at her bonds for a few seconds, then nodded.
“So far, so good,” she said, her voice already turning just a bit husky. “What next?”
“Something new,” Brad replied, taking up another length of rope and looping it around her elbows. “Tell me if this gets too tight,” he said, slowly drawing her elbows together. Helen lay silent, not stopping him until her elbows were almost touching. Quickly, Brad cinched and tied the rope off, then stepped back to watch as Helen explored this new element.
“This is interesting,” she said, her hands fluttering helplessly. “And effective. Even if I could get my hands free, I wouldn’t be able to do much. But my legs are still free.”
Instead of replying, Brad took up yet another length of rope, doubling it and looping it around her ankles. With her feet secure, he took up a final rope, slipping the looped end between her ankles and feeding the length through. Pulling on the rope, he drew her feet up, wrapping the end around her elbow ties and securing her in a mild hogtie. As he did, her dress pooled around her knees, revealing a very shapely set of calves.
“There,” he said, stepping back, “all done.”
“Not quite,” Helen replied, squirming slightly as she tested her bonds. “There’s one more thing you can do.”
“And what might that be?”
Helen blushed. “I’ve been studying bondage online between visits,” she said, “and there’s one thing you haven’t done that I think I would like to try. A gag.”
“Are you sure?” Brad eyed her doubtfully. “With a gag, you wouldn’t even be able to ask me to stop. You’d be completely helpless.”
Helen twisted onto her side. As she did, Brad’s eyes were drawn to the way her elbow ties caused her breasts to push out against the material of her dress. Tearing his eyes away, he found her watching him.
“You want me.” Her eyes moved down Brad’s body, stopping at his crotch. “I can see from here how hard you are. I’m helpless on your bed, and you want nothing more than to put that thing inside me.”
“Helen, I….”
“Don’t.” Helen’s eyes moved back up to lock with his. “It’s true, and we both know it. You want to fuck me, here and now. But you won’t, and we both know that as well. No matter how much you want to, you won’t do it, because you don’t think you have the right. You’re putting me ahead of your own desires.” Helen’s voice softened. “Just like you always do.” She smiled slightly. “You’re thinking with the right head, as usual.”
“Maybe more than just my head,” Brad said, almost too soft to hear. Helen’s eyes narrowed slightly, but when she spoke, it wasn’t about his remark.
“I’ve also been studying safety,” she said. “There’s a sound I can make if something’s wrong, a sound we agree on in advance. That way, you’ll know if I need to be let out. How bout if I hum a bit of ‘Stairway To Heaven’?”
Brad nodded. “That would work.” He eyed her for a moment. “If you’re sure.”
“Very.”
Slowly, Brad reached into his bondage supplies and withdrew three gags. “Take your pick,” he said.
Helen eyed the three choices. “Not that one,” she said, pointing with her chin toward a penis gag. “Not sure I’m ready to have something of that shape shoved into my mouth.” Brad removed the penis gag, leaving a ring and a ball. “The ball, I guess,” Helen said. “I’m not sure about that ring one.”
Nodding, Brad took up the ball gag and touched it to Helen’s mouth. Her lips parted, allowing him to insert the gag behind her teeth. Gently, he tightened the straps. Helen tried to speak, nodding at the muffled sounds that emerged. Moving back, Brad dropped onto his chair and watched as Helen tugged at her bonds, rolling back onto her stomach as she squirmed. After several moments, she grasped the back of her dress with both hands.
As Brad watched, Helen slowly began drawing up on her dress, pulling the hem ever higher on her legs. Her upper legs, so slowly exposed, proved to be every bit as shapely as her calves, as did her thighs. By the time Helen stopped tugging, her dress was wadded around her waist, treating him to a view of a set of firm, beautifully rounded cheeks. At the sight, Brad smiled.
“So that’s how you solved the wet panties problem,” he said. “No panties.”
Helen’s eyes smiled, and something that sounded very much like a giggle slipped from her gagged mouth. She began tugging down on the dress, but this proved harder than up. Finally, Brad rose and gently tugged the dress back down to her knees. Helen nodded her thanks, then closed her eyes and began slowly writhing in her bonds.
For a little over an hour, Helen twisted in her bonds. Finally, Brad heard the muffled strains of ‘Stairway To Heaven’, letting him know she wanted out. Rising from his chair, he moved to the bed and unbuckled the gag, gently slipping the ball from her mouth.
“You took a big chance there, you know,” he said, his fingers starting to work on the knots holding her.
“With the dress?” Helen smiled and shook her head. “Not really. You’ve already had several chances to take advantage of my helplessness, and you haven’t even offered.” With the first knot untied, she sighed with relief as she straightened her legs. “That felt good,” she said, “but it’s nice to be able to stretch.”
Brad turned his attention to her ankles. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted,” he admitted, slipping the rope from around her ankles.
“And I’d be lying,” Helen said softly, “if I said I’d mind.”
Brad paused, then slowly ran one hand up the inside of Helen’s left leg. As he reached her thigh, she moaned softly, her legs parting easily. His hand stopped just short of the juncture of her thighs, drawing another moan from her, this one of disappointment.
“Are you saying,” he asked, “that you want me to?”
Helen nodded. “Very much, at this point.”
“Is that you talking, or is that arousal talking?”
Helen blushed. “It’s a very aroused me. And I already know that means it’s not going to happen, so you might as well finish untying me.”
Nodding, Brad removed the rest of the ropes. Free, Helen stretched slowly, then rose from the bed and wrapped her arms around Brad’s waist, her lips rising to touch his. For a moment, they simply stood there, lips lightly touching. Smiling, Helen pulled away.
“You didn’t quite touch me,” she said, “so you don’t quite get to kiss me. Maybe next time.”
“I look forward to next time,” Brad said, then stiffened slightly in surprise as he felt her hand brush his crotch.
“I’d bet a dollar,” she said softly, “that you’re not looking forward to it as much as I am.”
Brad grinned. “It’s a bet.”
* * *
“Helen?”
Bradley Scott glanced around the empty room. Formerly a small café, the place had been abandoned for years.
“Back here.”
Brad moved across the large room, slipping through a set of swinging doors into what might once have been the kitchen. Now, the only thing in the room was a long metal table that looked to be bolted to the floor.
“Thanks for coming.” Brad turned toward the voice, eyes widening at what he saw. Helen Adler smiled nervously, hands shaking slightly as she straightened a thigh length skirt. Topped by a light blouse, it made for an outfit that nicely displayed her figure. “I didn’t know if you’d show up.”
“You said you needed to see me,” Brad replied, tearing his eyes from the appealing view to look into hers. “What is this place?”
Helen glanced around her. “This,” she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper, “is where it happened.”
Brad didn’t have to ask what “it” was. “Why are we here?”
Helen shivered slightly. “You keep telling me,” she said slowly, “that I have to deal with what happened to me. You tell me I need to come to terms with what was done to me here. Thing is, you never say how I should do that.”
“I can’t,” Brad said softly. “I can tell you what I think. I can advise, suggest. But how you deal with this is something only you can decide.”
“This,” Helen gestured, “was his family’s place, did you know that? He told me so, while I was bent over this table. He said this was the only place he ever felt really safe. When the place closed down, he lost that.”
“Helen….” Brad paused as she raised her hand.
“I know,” she said. “It doesn’t justify what he did to me, or to those other girls. I just understand now why he brought me here.”
Helen ran her hand slowly across the top of the table. “I was dressed kind of like I am now,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “He’d tied my hands when he grabbed me. Said he’d kill me if I made any noise. And I believed him. I was so scared, I could barely breathe. He bent me over this table and tied my ankles to the legs. He unbuttoned my blouse. He… he pulled down my panties, bent me over the table, and then he….” Helen’s voice fell silent as her body shivered. Brad reached toward her, but she stepped away from him.
“No,” she said, “don’t. I need to do this.” She glanced around, drawing deep, shuddering breaths. “After he was done,” she finally said, “he untied my ankles, turned me and lay me on the table. That’s when he….” She fell silent again, one hand reaching up to her stomach. For a long moment she stood, eyes closed, as if reliving what had happened here. Slowly, her eyes opened, focusing on his.
“That’s why we’re here,” she said.
“I don’t understand.”
“You’ve given me more than I could ever ask for,” Helen said softly. “More, maybe, than even you know. You’ve shown me that, yes, I love the feeling of helplessness. You’ve also shown me that it wasn’t what was done here that was wrong, but how and why it was done. Now, I want you to help me take the last step.”
Slowly, Helen opened her purse, taking out three lengths of rope. “I want you,” she said, holding out her hand, “to tie me the way he did. Then I want you to….” Her voice faltered.
“You want to reenact the rape? With me?”
Helen shook her head slowly. “I want you,” she replied, “to teach me this final lesson. I want you to show me that what happened here could have been a good thing, if it were done differently. I want you to tie me, then I want you to make love to me. I want you to take this ugliness and turn it into something beautiful.”
Brad took the rope from her hand. “You’re sure this is what you want?”
Instead of replying, Helen slowly unbuttoned her blouse. “I know you’ve been wanting to see these,” she said, pulling the blouse open to expose her breasts. “And more.” Eyes never leaving his, she reached under her skirt and slipped her panties down her legs, kicking them from her feet. Turning, she crossed her wrists behind her, glancing at him over one shoulder.
“Please.”
Slowly, gently, Brad looped the rope around her wrists, binding them securely. Once he’d finished, Helen stepped to the table, spreading her legs to let him bind her ankles to the legs of the table.
“There’s a rubber in my purse,” she said, leaning forward. “He didn’t use one, but I know you wouldn’t do this without one.”
Brad made no move toward her purse. Instead, he stepped behind her, softly grasping her shoulders and drawing her upright. With her back pressed to his chest, he reached around and, with both hands, gently cupped and squeezed her breasts. Lightly, he pinched both nipples, drawing soft gasps.
“More, please.”
Slowly, Brad’s hand slipped down her body, beneath the hem of her skirt, then back up to the juncture of her thighs. For long moments, he carefully explored the moist warmth he found there, her gasps becoming soft moans.
For long moments, the only sounds were Helen’s moans as Brad’s hands explored her most sensitive places. Finally, her voice rose in a moaning whisper.
“Don’t undress,” she said, pressing back against him. “Just take me, please. Take me now.”
Stepping back, Brad unzipped his slacks, his other hand diving into Helen’s purse. Unwrapping the rubber, he quickly unrolled it onto himself, then stepped back to her.
“This is what you want?”
“This is what I need. In more ways than one. Now, please, turn this nightmare into something better.”
Slowly, Brad slipped inside her, hands grasping her hips as he thrust gently. Helen fell forward onto the table, her moans slowly growing stronger as she pushed back into him. Gradually, Brad’s thrusts grew faster, Helen matching him at every step.
“Now,” she finally gasped. “Take me now.”
Brad drew back, then thrust deep inside her. Helen’s body shuddered as her orgasm claimed her. The feeling of her muscles clenching drove Brad over the top into his own orgasm. For another moment, he continued to thrust into her, then slowed to a stop as he fell forward over her.
Carefully, Brad moved back, feeling himself slip from between her thighs. He reached to untie her wrists, only to see her shake her head at his first touch.
“Just the feet,” she said softly. “For now. Please.”
Brad knelt and released Helen’s ankles. As he straightened, she turned and pressed her body against his. Instinctively, his arms went around her waist, holding her to him as she pressed her face against his shoulder. Her whole body quivered, and he could feel the warm wetness of her tears.
“That,” she finally said, he voice breaking, “was beautiful. I didn’t want it to end.”
“I know the feeling.”
Helen stepped back, glancing around herself. “This is where I was raped,” she said softly, then locked her eyes with his. “But now, it’s something else. This is where we made love for the first time. The rape happened once. I just hope the lovemaking happens more than that.”
Brad reached up and gently buttoned her blouse, then bent and picked up her purse, which he slung over his own shoulder.
“It can happen as many times as you like,” he said, lifting her from her feet and turning toward the door.
“Aren’t you going to untie my hands?”
Brad smiled. “I thought we’d continue this someplace more comfortable,” he said, glancing down at her as she lay cradled in his arms.
Helen smiled, and this time there was something new in the curve of her lips. “In that case,” she said, her voice becoming husky, “can you walk a bit faster?”
* * *
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press. I thank you for coming tonight.” Standing at the podium, Mayor Rebecca Cox smiled out at the assembled reporters who, along with several hundred others, had turned out for the evening press conference.
“As you all know,” she continued, “tomorrow morning will see the beginning of a trial that will impact our whole city. The defendant is charged with multiple counts of rape, along with assault with a deadly weapon and several other charges. His conviction, if accomplished, will take an evil man off the streets and make our city a safer place for everyone.”
Cox paused, hands smoothing the jacket of a smart business suit that failed to conceal the lushness of her curves. Smiling, she placed her hands once more on the podium.
“Originally,” she said, “it was my intention to speak to you about this very important trial. However, my plans have changed. This morning, I was contacted by someone who asked to speak to you, someone much more closely connected to this case.” Turning, she gestured toward one side of the stage.
As the crowd watched, a young woman stepped from the wings, arm wrapped tightly around the waist of the man who walked with her. Stepping to the podium, the woman nodded to the audience.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mayor, for allowing me to be here tonight. And my thanks to all of you, for hearing what I have to say.”
For a moment, the woman fell silent, her eyes locked with those of the man with her. Finally, she turned back toward the microphone.
“My name,” she said, “is Helen Adler. I was the final target of the man whose trial starts in the morning. I was grabbed, taken to an abandoned building, bound, raped, then had a word carved into my stomach.”
Helen paused, then continued. “When it happened,” she said, “I was too afraid to even try to stop him. Afterwards, I was too afraid to even think about it. If it hadn’t been for the people at the hospital, and some very good people in the police department, I wouldn’t have had the nerve to identify the man responsible. But it doesn’t stop there.
“You may have noticed that I said I was a target, not that I was a victim. But I was, at first. Too afraid to do or say anything that might call attention to myself, as if I thought doing so would cause it to happen again. I blamed myself for what happened, even more than I blamed the man who did it.
“Then I met someone.” As she spoke, Helen’s arm tightened around the man beside her. “Someone who taught me something very important. He taught me the difference between a target and a victim. I was a target, and nothing will ever change that. I am not a victim. A victim is someone who allows what has happened to her to rule her life, something I did at first. Now I know that the choice of whether or not to be a victim is mine to make. I am not, and never will be, a victim.”
Helen fell silent for a moment, eyes scanning the crowd that had fallen into a dead silence. Every eye was locked on the young woman standing proudly at the podium.
“Traditionally,” she finally went on, “the word slut is defined as someone, usually a woman, who can’t get enough sex. By traditional thinking, a slut will have sex with anyone, anywhere, any way. It’s the sex that matters, not the partner. Of course, the traditional definition has expanded. There are clothes sluts, text sluts, game sluts.” She paused briefly. “Pain sluts. Which means the definition of slut has grown to mean any of an endless list of things one might not be able to get enough of.
“After my rape, I was marked with the word slut. At first it was true. But it was my own fear, pain, and humiliation I couldn’t get enough of. I buried myself in it, and it took meeting one person to dig me out. It was then that I found out exactly what I am.
“I,” she declared, her arm once more tightening around the man beside her, “am not a slut. I am his slut, and it’s his gentleness, his caring, his patience, that I can never and will never get enough of. I will never forgive the man who raped me for what he did to me. At the same time, I am almost grateful to him. Without him, I would never have met the man beside me, and I would never have learned just how much of a slut I am. But only for him, and only for as long as he will have me.
“Tomorrow, when the trial starts, I will be in the courtroom. I will give my testimony, and hope it will help take a very sick man off the streets. And when it’s all over, I hope to be a slut to my man for many, many years. I can only hope that the other women who suffered under his hands will find some comfort in that.”
Helen’s final words were drowned by the thunderous applause that rose from the crowd. Amid the clamor, a young woman threaded her way through the assembly to the stage. Nervously, she moved to the podium, where Helen stepped aside. The woman gazed at the crowd that fell silent with her appearance, her whole body tense.
“I almost didn’t come here tonight,” she said, so softly that her words were barely picked up by the microphone. “But I’m glad I did. Helen’s words mean a lot to me, and now I need to add a few words of my own.”
The woman paused, then drew herself up straight. “My name,” she said, “is Desire Wilson, and I was raped by the man who goes on trial tomorrow. Since then, I’ve been hiding myself, just like Helen says she did. But the time for hiding, for being a victim, is over.
“Tomorrow, I mean to be there with Helen, and I mean to give my testimony as well. And when it’s over, if I’m very lucky, I’ll find someone like she did. And if I do, I mean to try my best to be a good slut for him.”
Again, the crowd burst into applause, which died only slowly as the Mayor moved to stand between the two women at the podium. Patiently, she waited for the applause to die down, then spoke in a firm tone.
“If these two,” she said, “are an example of the women of this city, then we have a lot to be proud of. Their courage in the face of the horrors they experienced should be an inspiration to all of us. I know it is to me.
“As you know from the announcement for this press conference, we will be taking no questions tonight. Anything else you need to hear will be heard during the trial. For now, I would like to thank you for being here to hear what both of these women have said. Now, if you will excuse me, I think it’s time Mr. Cox took his slut home and let her show him how much she can’t get enough of him.”
* * *
“Time to get ready.”
“So soon?”
Brad smiled down at Helen, who lay squirming on his bed. Carefully, he released the leather straps holding her legs together, then the ones pinning her arms to her sides. Stepping back, he silently enjoyed the view of Helen stretching her newly released body, before turning away from the bed.
“Time to shower and dress,” he said, moving to the door. “Trial starts in an hour.”
“Ready.” Brad glanced up from the morning paper to see Helen, fully dressed but still brushing her hair, emerge from the bathroom. “What are you reading?”
With a grin, Brad turned the paper to let her see the headline. Helen’s eyes widened, a burst of startled laughter escaping as she saw the words. Pulling Brad to his feet, she kissed him slowly, then wrapped her arm around his waist as they turned toward the door.
Laying forgotten on the table, the paper waited patiently, as papers do, its headline plainly visible for any who cared to look:
WHO’S SLUT ARE YOU?
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17.07.13