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Old 07-08-2007, 09:09 PM
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The Mask, M/F: Part 1--this for all the girls

Martykate©copyright July 1999

For all the women (including myself) who have dreamed of being ravished by a handsome, mysterious stranger

The Mask

It must have happened to some others, but maybe no one had yet come forward. Maybe some were too ashamed, maybe others felt intimidated, and others simply infatuated. Either way, it must have happened to more than one…


Alana was never afraid of walking home alone at night, even in the dark. Santa Fe felt so much safer than Seattle, and she was enchanted by it all. The mountains, the red sandstone cliffs, the pueblos, the adobes, the desert; and yes, the restaurants and the shops that attracted the tourists. . She was fortunate enough to have landed a good job, and could afford the high cost of living. And she was having the time of her life.

She often left work after dark, but was unafraid. She’d cut across the parking lot and walk down the street as if she dared anyone to threaten her. Her thick brown hair, which was cut just to brush her shoulders, would swing in rhythm to her walk. A walk that had always been sexy without effort, for like her father, she unconsciously swayed her hips, displaying her shapely ass to perfection. A feature men noticed and made women jealous.

She was happy, she felt safe, but lately she had felt eyes watching her. Watching unseen, but watching her none the less. She felt them when she left her little adobe house in the morning, and sometimes felt them as she sat with her cats on the patio, watching the colors of the twilight.

The eyes were there when she left work, and sometimes seemed to follow her home. She refused to let the eyes intimidate her, but she was starting to wish they’d go away.

She told no one, feeling foolish. How do you tell anyone that you feel eyes watching you that you cannot see? They would only laugh and tell her it was her imagination, that as an attractive woman (not pretty, no definitely not pretty, but attractive and having the quality that some call allure) she was bound to be watched. And though she might deny it, it was true, she enjoyed having men watch her. And, at 30, they watched her still.

No, she could tell no one. But lately the eyes seemed to be getting bolder. They seemed to watch her getting dressed in her bedroom, and in spite of the fact that she kept the blinds closed, the eyes still watched.

But she wouldn’t it let her change habits. She refused to live in fear, to give up her walks home, breathing the sharp air in the winter, and the arid air of the summer. Walking home meant freedom from fear and worry. And the exercise kept her trim, and her long legs were shapely as a result.

One night, she put off the walk home to have drinks with her colleagues. They sat in the cantina, eating nachos and drinking margaritas. It was a yuppie bar, filled with young professionals and often tourists, but it was her favorite gathering place, and she never minded the crowds. She would sit at the table with her friends, and on weekends they would be there until late. Once in a while she would accept a ride home, and sometimes on a whim would let a man spend the night. But not often, and there had been no one special for a long time—the move from Seattle had more than one reason.

It was Friday night, no work the next day. It was only nine o’clock but she felt no need for company and bid her friends goodnight and left the cantina. She had drunk enough to feel pleasantly high, but not so much that it would mean a hangover in the morning. She wondered if she should have stayed later and enjoyed the mood, and maybe let someone drive her home, but she hadn’t really considered it until she left. Instead she decided to enjoy the night air, looking at the stars, feeling free for once from the eyes.

There was one particular part of the walk that passed through a dark area of the neighborhood. There was a vacant lot, and not much light, but she’d never thought to worry about it. But tonight as she reached the dark section of the street, she felt the eyes, felt them more strongly than ever, and wished she’d not left the cantina alone.

Suddenly she felt gauze on her mouth and nose, and there was a sweetish smell she could not place. Just as she lost consciousness she thought that it might be chloroform, for she’d read that was how it smelled. But she was unconscious long before she had a chance to figure out if it was.

When she awoke she realized that she was lying in a cave, a rug underneath her and the smell of sand around her. She could hear the crackling of a fire outside, and inside the cave it was cool, but still comfortable. But she could not see a thing, for a silk scarf covered her eyes, depriving her of vision. She was also bound hand and foot, firmly but only tightly enough to prevent her escape.

She heard steps in the sand, a sound so faint but audible in the still night air. She guessed that she had been taken into the desert and imprisoned in a cave much like the ones where Anasazi had built their homes. She wanted to scream, but it occurred to her that no one would hear her, and she would not for she feared her screaming would only amuse her captor. And struggling would do no good, it was no use even trying. She would have to try to make her escape only if she had an opportunity, if she could find her way back to civilization—somehow.

“Ah little one, you are awake.” The voice had an accent that could have been Spanish, or perhaps a member of the Mexican upper class. A somewhat deep (but not too deep) sensual voice, that was sending shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with the air in the cave. She felt herself lifted up into a sitting position with a strong arm, and a cup of deliciously cool water pressed against her lips. She drank gratefully, for the alcohol had left her thirsty. But her gratitude didn’t last long.

“Who are you? What am I doing here? Why do you have me blindfolded, tied up? This isn’t funny, I want to leave—now!” She spoke with more confidence than she felt, especially since she knew it wasn’t going to do her any good. What was worse she had provided amusement for her captor.

“I am afraid, senorita that I can’t--no, I won’t--do that,” he laughed. He set down the cup, and ran a hand down her arm.

She shivered, not from cold, nor fear, but excitement—an excitement that she had no wish to feel. His hand was warm, feeling almost hot on the cool surface of her skin. A finger traced the length of her spine, and she felt the button on the back of her blouse release. At least her hands were tied so he couldn’t take it off, she thought.

It wasn’t taken off, he pulled it up and undid the hooks of her bra and released her breasts. She could feel his lips on her nipple, grazing them with his teeth.

“Ah, how many men have you tempted with these, querida? How many men have you made false promises to? How many men have you tempted, only to let them down?" He continued the exploration of her breasts with his hand. “Tell me, how many men have you tempted with these firm breasts, these round buttocks? Tell me” he commanded, and that voice, now stern, still seemed a caress.

“No one. Stop that, stop touching me. Who do you think you are anyway? This is kidnapping, it’s illegal. Let me go.”

Again that laugh, then that voice. “I bet it has been many men. Come now, admit it.”

“Whether I have or haven’t is none of your business,” she was trying to sound indignant, but a painful squeeze on her arm made her wince. “All right, all right. What woman hasn’t promised something she didn’t intend to deliver? You use us, we use you, what’s the difference?”

Now there were lips caressing her neck. Soft lips brushing across it. “Ah, the using, is it fair no matter who does it?” Now the lips were moving to her stomach, and she drew a breath as his hands moved down and undid her trousers, sliding them and silken panties down her legs. She felt his lips touch her pubic hair and start to move lower and then she jerked away.

“No.” No meant no, after all. But how much could she do tied and with a scarf over her eyes? “Just who do you think you are, anyway?”

“Perhaps I am the vengeance for all the men you have teased. Perhaps I will take revenge for each one.” The hand ran down her arm again, and she waited to sense him move closer, waited for her chance.

His lips brushed her cheek, and sought her mouth. And as he did she turned and viciously bit the side of his face. And then sank her teeth into his shoulder before he had a chance to react.
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