He has been tailing her without her notice since she got on the highway. He doesn’t know where she is going, but that isn’t a problem. He can be very patient. He can wait. Wait until she is alone. Vulnerable. His to take.
She’s going to a bad part of town. A bad part, one of many. But this one isn’t so bad during the day at least. Mostly abandoned. Ruined. He has an inkling now. He has seen her tumblr. Her photos of ruined places.
He grins. This is perfect.
As she stops he drives past. She doesn’t seem to notice him. One of many cars driving nearby. He parks well out of sight and takes the bag from the passenger seat, pulling the cuffs out and into his pocket.
The building she chose is abandoned. Broken. Desolate. A metaphor for the city perhaps. For what he will do to her? But he has seen her photos. She will find beauty in it. If she has time. Maybe she will find beauty in his plans as well.
He walks carefully, an eye out for her, but she has gone inside. He feels flutters in her stomach. Adrenalin. Excitement. She has no understanding of what is to come.
As he finds his way into the building he is slow and careful. He has time. Each moment is to be enjoyed. Each step is careful. Each step is watchful. Working his way towards her.
The first floor is empty. The second. Graffiti on the walls. Broken walls and stones. He hears a clicking though. A camera shutter.
He spies her around the corner. Lost in her work. Her pack is on the ground, forgotten as she searches for her next shot. Her perfect image.
It’s almost too easy. She doesn’t hear him until he’s behind her. She’s turning to see what the noise is as his hands hit her squarely in the chest. Grabbing the camera from her as she falls.
He sets the camera onto the floor as he jumps on top of her, catching her arms beneath his weight and shes confused, dazed, but fighting. She has spirit.
His hand catches her across the cheek. He’s playing with her. A show of force, not a blow that will leave a lasing mark. It doesn’t slow her down and he’s laughing as he fights to hold her. It takes almost all of his effort to keep her pinned as she catches enough of her wits to scream curses at him. Almost all. He weighs to much, is to strong and he gets the hand cuffs out.
One of her wrists. Then the other. He gets up. Toying with her still. Letting her try to get up. To fight him? To run? It doesn’t matter. With her hands cuffed it takes no effort to grab the chain and knock her back down.
She tries to get up again but he puts a foot into her stomach. Hard, but not too hard. She flops onto her back and stares hate at him. She calls him very bad names. He grins. He likes her. She’s not pleading or begging. She’s cursing him out.
He licks his lips as he notices her dress, how its hem has ridden up to her waist in the scuffle. Her panties are red. Delicious.
It’s not hard to keep her legs from kicking him as he pulls the panties off. She struggles. She screams. But she picked this place. This abandoned place.
He moves back and smells the panties in his hand. The scent is lovely.
“Well fuck,” he says. The first words he has spoken to her today. “Is this turning you on?”
She doesn’t deny it. She only screams more obscenity at him. Threats. The panties go into his pocket. He grabs another pair of cuffs and snaps one end onto her ankle.
He grabs her by the cuffed leg and starts to pull her across the floor. Their is an exposed pipe not to far away. A thin one exposed by a broken wall.
She seems to realize it. His intentions and she fights even harder. Screaming at the top of her lungs. Threats. For help. She lands kicks that hurt, but he ignores it, dragging her, her dress pulling up even higher, her back being scraped by the rough ground and broken floor. But it’s not enough and he snaps the cuff onto the pipe.
Back to his bag while she screams at him. The duct tape. He pins her hands with his knee and forces her panties into her mouth as she tries to bite his fingers. Her voice muffled, the tap goes around and around, holding the make shift gag in place.
He can’t wait, but he has to draw it out for the joy. Watching her eyes as he tugs off his pants. Watching her eyes as she sees his hard cock. The joy of knowing that she knows exactly whats coming.
He grabs her kicking free leg with one arm as he climbs on top of her. His hand pins her arms, holding the chain of the cuffs over her head. His cock pushing against her. Into her and she is so wet.
He can see in her eyes that she knows it. Knows how wet she is. The shame. He grins wide as he sinks into her, to the hilt. She feels so god.
She fights under him. Still struggling even when its useless and that only makes it better.
He’s thrusting and it may be his imagination but he thinks her hips are rising, just slightly to meet him.
“Are you liking this,” he says and she looks away before trying to head butt him.
“You are aren’t you,” he says and with his free hand slides it between them. Against her clit.
He’s rubbing her. He’s holding himself off. This is too good. Too much. It’s worth the wait.
His fingers are moving against her as he thrusts slowly.
“Your loving this aren’t you,” he says. He head is turned but even through the panty gag he hears the whimper.
His fingers are frantic. He can’t last much longer.
“What kind of woman would cum while being raped,” he asks.
Then he feels her shuddering under him and screams in triumph as he thrusts harder and harder until he is finishing inside her. Filling her.
He finishes and she lies limp under him. Too tired to fight or too humiliated. He doesn’t know or care. He pulls out and staggers as he stands. Looking down at her, limp, his seed leaking from her.
He says nothing as he pulls his pants on. He picks up her camera and takes a few photos of her, splayed, nude from the waist down, used and dripping.
“So you can remember the occasion,” he says, puts the camera down and walks away.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/6tyf51/the_photographer_alone_mfnc