Mystery man [MF] [bd] [bdsm] [nc] (x-post)

I don't know what my lover's face looks like. Hell I don't know what any part of his body looks like. I don't know if he is old or young, thin or fat, strong or weak, ugly or handsome. I don't know what race he is or where he comes from.

What do I know about him? I think, from the way he sometimes places his arms on my shoulders when he is deep inside me, that he is tall. But that's not a very exact way to guess a man's height is it? I could be out by a couple of feet in either direction. I know how his hands feel. I guess, from his prowess and the slow measured pace of his breathing, that he is middle aged and in good shape, but this is pure speculation on my part. In the height of passion I have heard little gasps from him, but not enough to tell you what he sounds like. Romantically I like to think that if I ever met him I would recognise him by his smell, but even I do not really believe that. Truthfully I could not tell you what he smells like. I think he uses an odourless antiperspirant.

When in the company of my boss, or of a male friend, I often find myself wondering if they are him. It never seems to quite fit; I am fairly sure it is no one I know. Then again he seems to know me so well, and to be so familiar with my routines and my home, that I continue to wonder if maybe a friend or colleague has hidden depths. I am on the look out always for a gesture, an unfounded presumption of intimacy, which would give him away. So far there has been nothing.

Of only one thing am I certain: he is not a member of that very short list of men – my former lovers. I am certain I would be able to tell if he was. Actually I am certain of one other thing, although I suppose this is not much more than belief on my part. I am sure he is just one person, not several.

I should explain.

He visits me intermittently. Usually it is about every couple of weeks but there is no pattern, sometimes he comes much more frequently, sometimes much less.

It always happens the same way. It will always be an evening when I have no plans and no one else will be around. I will come home from work and go to my room. On my pillow will be a small thick brown sack just a little larger than my head and a red ball gag. He seems to have an infinite number of both, although I do notice he does retrieve them when he can.

The first time it happened there was also a note. There has never been a note since, there is no need as every word of that first note is seared into my memory. It was typed using some typewriter font, or maybe an actual typewriter, on an old piece of yellow scrap paper. This is what it said:

I will be coming to see you from time to time. You have two options. If you do not follow my instructions exactly nothing will happen. Your second option is to follow my instructions exactly and see what happens next.

Here are my instructions

• Put on the gag, attach it firmly
• Take off all your clothes
• Lie spreadeagle on your bed facing the ceiling
• place the sack fully over your head
• await my arrival
• when I leave you are not to remove the sack until I have been gone for at least ten minutes

This will be the only time I ever communicate with you.

TWO

Of course the first time this happened I did what anyone would do. I screamed, I fled my home for the house of a friend, and I called the police.

When the police got to my place they found no note, no sack, and no gag. I could tell immediately that they thought I was some hysteric making it up. They thought that this was some fantasy of mine. It's an embarrassing thing so I only told one friend, the friend who's house I fled to. She believed me at first, but I'm not sure she does any more.

The second time I was still scared witless but I did at least grab the sack and gag to show to the police. They said that both seemed to be brand new and untouched by anyone but me. Both were of generic make and could have been purchased from any of many thousands of shops or websites. They still didn't believe me, they thought I was mad.

The third time, the fourth time, the fifth time, I fled my place whenever it happened. But as nothing continued to happen I could see my friend was starting to lose patience. She'd never seen the sack and gag, and it all sounded so absurd and far fetched. I didn't want to come across as a loony so I just let the matter drop. I told her I thought maybe it was some teens playing a prank, that maybe I'd exaggerated a bit, and left it at that.

Next time it happened I didn't leave my room . Instead I barricaded myself inside and stayed up all night, jumping out of my skin at the slightest noise, a kitchen knife clasped to my bosom. Nothing happened.

Nothing happened the next time either, or the time after that. After a while I started to worry less. I could never relax obviously, a man (back then I was just assuming it was a man) was coming in to my room on a regular basis. But it became just a part of life after a while. It is amazing what we will get used to.

But as the fear lessened something incredibly powerful started to happen. A feeling I doubt I am going to be able to fully describe to you took over my brain. I felt a sense of fate, of inevitability. Every time I came home and saw that gag and sack I felt like they were calling to me. I felt drawn to them. I started to feel a profound sense of dread. Not terror but a deep dark foreboding. I started to think … no … I started to know, that one day I would put on the gag and the sack.

It became an obsession, a fixation. Whereas before I would immediately fling them out of the window in a panic or throw them in the bin, now I would hold them for minutes at a time. To think, to wonder, about what would happen if I put them on.

One day when I could bear it no more I put the gag on. It was more comfortable than I expected. I went to the mirror and looked at myself wearing it. My heart started beating so fast I thought it would explode out of my chest. I took it off and started gasping. I was nearly sick.

A couple of hours later dread, fate, curiosity, this odd compulsion, again made me put on the gag. Once again my heart started beating like a hammer on an anvil. I took off my clothes. I could feel rising panic in my chest but I forced myself to remain calm. I lay down on my bed and put the sack over my head. It was pitch black inside the sack.

I have never been so terrified in my life. I was trembling uncontrollably. My breath came in sharp gasps around the side of the gag.

Then I heard a board creak.

I couldn't bear it, I leaped off the bed and flung the sack off. There was no one there. I listened. There was no noise. I grabbed a dressing gown and my kitchen knife and I looked around my home. Nothing.

I didn't sleep a wink that night or the next.

Two weeks later, again the gag and the sack. I screamed and threw them out of the window.

Three weeks later, again the gag and the sack. I shook a little, I wept a little. Then I pulled myself together. "OK" I said out loud. "You win".

THREE

I had a long bath. I felt shaky and light headed when I got out but I was determined to see it through. I put on the gag. I lay down spreadeagle on the bed facing the ceiling. I pulled the sack over my head.

I was so fucking scared. Shivering and trembling do not do what I was doing justice. I was shuddering.

He must be able to see into my room, but I don't know how. I have looked and looked for a camera and not found one. But he must be able to see into my room because once I am ready he comes quickly. He has my key, again I don't know how. He moves silently, so often I don't hear him open the front door. Sometimes I don't hear him open my door. Sometimes the first thing I hear is the click as he turns the light on if I have left it off. On that first occasion the light was already on. I didn't hear anything. The first I knew that he was there was feeling his hand on my wrist.

The first bit is so quick it is always a blur. Of course I screamed into the gag. I assume I struggled. It doesn't matter if you do because what happens next happens in milliseconds.

He snaps a set of handcuffs around each wrist and snaps the other end of each to the headboard of the bed by the corners. Then moments later he is by my feet firmly lashing them to the bedposts with some sort of thick strapping. Moments after he has entered the room I am completely motionless, bound naked and spreadeagle.

Then he relaxes and moves more slowly. He fixes one final strap. It goes around my knee, then under the bed, then up somewhere by the headboard, then back around the other side, around the other knee and round under the bed to make a full circuit. He tightens it with something I guess from the noise is some sort of ratchet.

This strap pulls everything tight. It also pulls my knees up and apart, leaving both my lower orifices utterly exposed.

Then there is a pause during which, I presume, he gets undressed. These days I love the suspense and anticipation of those minutes, but on that first occasion the shear terror was just indescribable. I was shaking violently and making a high pitched whining sound out of the sides of the gag.

That first time and that first time only he started by running his hands over every part of my body below my neck, getting to know every inch of me. His touch was like electricity to me, I almost climaxed right then.

Then he began his attack.

FOUR

He is always consistent but he is never the same. Of course he is a sadist. I did not know until that night I was a masochist. He always cleans up perfectly and takes everything with him, so I don't know what tools he uses, but I can guess from their feel. There are hot irons, naked flames, wax, ice, a thin cane, pins, clamps, and of course his fingers and teeth.

He gives as much thought to pleasure as to pain, and there are also a number of different vibrators, dildos and plugs. Most of all he knows that masturbation can be used to inflict both pleasure and pain. He jills me so hard. His second favourite thing in the world seems to be to stimulate me until I can cum no more and then go harder still in order to cause me pain. Sometimes as he is doing this the pain is so strong it feels like he is holding a blowtorch to my clit.

His favourite thing is electricity. He has a number of buzzers and wands and some sort of cattle prod or picana with a variable charge. At its lowest settings it provides a sharp shock. At its higher settings it is the thing in the world I fear the most.

He likes to use it on its lowest settings to lightly tap me on the inner thigh and the flanks of my breasts when he is just getting started. The higher settings come later, but I don't like to think about that.

He builds so slowly and methodically, switching often between tools and techniques. He'll start on the sides and underside of my breasts, then work towards the nipples, then down. He slowly ramps up the intensity, but he is sure to never leave anything but small marks which quickly heal.

Only deep into our sessions does he start to fuck me. He is not huge but he is always fully engorged and he always pounds with power and intensity. In contrast to the animalistic fury of some of his attacks when he is hurting me he always seems in complete control when he is fucking me. Calm and methodical, even when he is pounding me fast and hard he is never frantic. He takes his pick of my holes, using a little lube but not enough to stop it from being painful. He took my anal virginity that first night. I have no idea if he knew. Sometimes he'll use a dildo or vibrator to DP me.

Often he will go deep into me and then stay utterly still. Then he tortures me with greater and greater intensity until I writhe and squirm. He remains motionless inside me, riding my convulsions until he cums. Only then does the torture stop.

Our sessions last for hours. Often all night. His stamina is pretty good but there is nothing herculean about it – it is just that whenever he cums he simply tortures me until his arousal returns. No matter how much we both cum the session does not end until my bedsheets are totally soaked in my sweat. I think he rightly thinks that if I am utterly exhausted I will not be tempted to disobey his final instruction. Once he stops I often barely notice him packing up, untying me, and silently slipping out.

FIVE

Once as he was leaving I tried to take off the hood and get a look at him. The quick transition from the black of the sack to the bright of my room blinded me so I initially could not see anything. Before my eyes had time to adjust I was incapacitated by what must have been a taser. The next thing I knew my head was once again inside the sack and I was once again bound. He tortured me for several more hours. This time it wasn't for my pleasure, or even for his, it was to teach me a lesson. I do not like to think about that night. When he was done he untied me and tased me one final time. By the time I became aware of my surroundings again he was long gone. Worst of all he then stayed away for two and a half months. I thought I had lost him forever. When I finally saw the gag and sack again I wept with relief.

I've tried to catch him out in other ways, but it's never worked. I've set up cameras and webcams. He has found them and destroyed them. I've also tried communicating with him. I've left him notes and letters and even gifts and food. I have no evidence he's even so much as noticed. I can hardly complain. He told me it would be like this in his note. It's the only thing he's ever told me.

Once I had an exciting thought. What if I wasn't the only one? In fact I almost certainly wasn't. He's so good at this I can't be the first. Maybe if I find the others I will be able to find one he's made a mistake with, one who knows who he is. I eagerly searched the internet.

Eventually I found a video called "bound beauty tortured and fucked". It was on a popular porn site and it was one of their most popular videos. It was of a woman, a sack over her head, bound in a spreadeagle position being utterly plowed by a man seemingly wearing a go-pro camera attached to a headband. Irritatingly it had been expertly edited so that not a single part of the man was visible in any frame.

I had been watching for about two minutes when I realised with a gasp that the woman was me.

I watched it through several times going through all the thoughts and emotions you could imagine me going through. Eventually I realised two things:

One, he and I are probably the only two people in the world who know that woman is me. The video was expertly edited, not only were there no clues as to his identity but any shots of my room had also been edited out. All you could see was my very generic bed and my very generic white sheets. And me. But I have no scars or tattoos and very few people are familiar enough with my naked writing body to recognise it so utterly out of context.

Two: I could do nothing about it. Currently only two people knew the video was of me. If I contacted the website or drew anyone's attention to the video in any way that number would have to increase. I couldn't risk that happening. I would have to let some people know, and I didn't want anyone to know, that I had chosen, voluntarily, time and again, to put on the sack and gag.

To say we have an unequal power relationship would be putting it mildly. I don't know what he looks like, he has spent days riding me naked, has shared my body with the world. He can do whatever he wants to me, I can't even communicate with him. But what can I do, how can I negotiate? I tried abstaining for a few months, seeing if I could break his will. I might as well have picked a fight with a wall or the sea. His complete lack of response seemed to say to me "the offer is the same, you may take it or leave it", and so eventually once again I took it.

He has ruined other men for me. Only once since this started have I tried to have a relationship. Several pleasant enough dates eventually led to pleasant enough sex back at the house of my date. It just didn't compare. The next day the sack and gag were waiting on my pillow. I grabbed them hungrily. There were no more dates.

I think I love him. I know I would do anything for him. I would kill to know anything at all about him.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/3i96x4/mystery_man_mf_bd_bdsm_nc_xpost