...is about to find out that fantasies do indeed go wrong sometimes... 

Her online nick name is Miss Disaster and he thinks it suits her perfectly. Not because she is clumsy, but because she brings destruction into his idyllic small town life (ok, maybe not so idyllic now, as he is on the verge of a divorce, partly thanks to this crazy one). More disturbingly, he welcomes the chaos that comes in the package with her. And only if he could just sit back and watch the destruction happen, but no, he seems to be feeding his own darkness into her sick mind. This will not end well. They both know that. But how could you stop a Tornado? Miss Tornado would be a better name for her, he decides.

She is part of his everyday life now. Every morning when he wakes up he checks his inbox for her emails, they talk hours and hours online every other day and they are sending thousands of flirty, kinky text messages to each other.

She is a sucker for everything he has to offer, his thoughts, his words, no matter how disturbed or perverted they are. The game they play is really irresponsible, but he can't help it, he is severely addicted to her. And now she wants to meet up. He nearly fell off the chair when she told him that.

'That is a very, very irresponsible idea.' he said looking straight into the camera that day with true seriousness in his voice and on his face. But she kept on insisting.

'Listen,' sounding still very serious, 'I cannot guarantee I won't hurt you,' he warned again.

'But I want you to hurt me,' she begged with her cute angelic face framed by her blonde locks.

'You want this... you want that... Such a demanding little bitch.' Now he was smiling as he mimicked her childish little voice. He knew the effect of his words on her. He knew her well. Her need to be talked dirty to, the foreshadowing, the need for her limits to be pushed, he knew them well.

'Let me think about this, ok?' he said. 'But I have to warn you, once we meet in real life, it won't be about what YOU want any more.'

He kept quiet about for a few days, hardly being able to restrain himself. Of course he was to say yes, but he wanted to see when she will bring it up again. Just to see how desperate she really was. No mention of it for five days. She did say though, that she was working a lot and was rather tired lately. On the sixth day, not even thinking about it, he shared a fantasy he had that day about kidnapping and raping her.

'Let's do that.' she said curtly and with a serious expression. 'I'm free this weekend and will do the drive.' She couldn't risk him having second thoughts on a three hours drive.

So it was decided.

Dark clouds were gathering above his town soon after that decision had made and he had to smile at the coincidence.

The 'date' is today at 8 pm. His excitement is beyond words. He is trying to think straight and gather his thoughts in vain. His other head took over a few months back when he met her online.

He runs up the stairs to pick up the toys, he ordered online just yesterday, (thank god for next day delivery). The big cardboard box sits unopened on the top of the stairs, still wrapped in black plastic. He is rearranging the toys into a hard plastic tool box, making sure that the handcuffs, the only item recognisable by vanilla eyes go deep into the bottom of it. The rest of the equipment he ordered are less obvious. 

'Just in case I will be pulled over for speeding.' he thinks. Because sure as hell he will be speeding. He walks to his car parked on the kerb, locking the house behind him and puts the heavy tool box into the boot of the car with a satisfied smirk and goes on the rampage.

She likes to drive and looks forward to to the journey. She likes to be alone with her thoughts and think this whole thing through. She will definitely not change her mind, though. She needs this, she needs this more than anything. As for why, that is for her shrink to figure out next week. Then again it is very unlikely she will mention it to Martha. Her need to be treated badly and being used is not registered as being a problem in her head. Only people who have no idea about BDSM could possibly think that it is something wrong and it is something that people need to be cured out of. Like that ignorant woman who wrote 'Fifty shades of Gray'. People don't turn to BDSM because they had a rough childhood. That is bullshit. She remembered throwing the book against the wall when that idea emerged. Then again, she had to admit, she did have issues in her own childhood, that probably paid Martha for some nice holiday already. But it wasn't like her other self-destructive ways. This one, she really quite enjoyed.

And she felt safe in his hands. She knew him well after months and months of chatting. She knew his real name, where he lived, but most importantly she knew that he is a nice guy and only her wild, provocative behaviour brings the psycho out of him. Some people just click when they meet, or have a 'spark' but once these two meet, the apocalipse will begin. 

She takes a last, long look at the pictures of him and the map he sent her, closes her laptop and goes to shower and get ready. She doesn't spend a lot of time fussing with her hair and makeup. It won't be about sensual play and seduction, or beauty for that matter, just about their primal needs and fulfilling them. She knows, the more beautiful she would be, the more he will want to ruin her looks. For her own good, she doesn't necessarily want to tempt him even more.

As she will play a prostitute, her outfit; her plaid, belted miniskirt and lacy stockings are already chosen in her mind. She completes the look with a black low neck top, her favourite back and white pearl necklace and her double hoop silver earrings. She looks in the mirror and with a shadow crossing over her mind she decides to take off the necklace.

Almost all three hours of driving is on the motorway, quite boring, really, but she keeps herself entertained imagining the different scenarios that could happen. 

'Why did he seem so reluctant first?' she wonders.

Even on his short, half an hour drive he was having second thoughts. He knew she needed this just as much as he wanted it and he knew he had to go beyond her fantasies. He had to really push her limits this time. But what if he goes too far? What if he scares her? What if he really hurts her? This was a risk he had to take, as there are things you just cannot say no to. For him she was one of those things. Part of him hated her for that. He wanted to slap her around, break her, destroy her, just to teach her a lesson to stay the fuck away from him. He could barely concentrate on the road and even though he chose the meeting point, he got lost on his way twice.

She was using her Satnav and got there before him, and was looking around nervously, scanning the area for people and more importantly for CCTV cameras, although she couldn't quite decide whether she wanted them to be there to witness her kidnapping, or not.

It was a large deserted car park, with only a few cars here and there. It looked like quite a bad neighbourhood so she stayed in her car, until she saw his black Mazda making it's entrance through the raised barrier. Then she got out and when he parked his car next to hers and rolled down his window, she leans in like a proper streetwalker would and smiles at him. He gives her some notes, actually quite a lot of money, but it doesn't matter, they are just props for their game and she will hand them back when they are finished; when he is finished with her.

She takes the money and slips the notes into her handbag. That's the sign, that it's all good. She is in. She is in, indeed, handcuffed, her mouth taped shut with a wide grey duct tape, in his boot, rolling from side to side as he drives off quickly but careful about the speed limit now, because this cargo would be very hard to explain.

She remembers him telling her about some storage place his dad owned, outside town. Probably that is where he is taking her. Hopefully not too far out of town, as her delicate skin is getting seriously bruised smashing against the different toolboxes and god knows what in his boot.

A few minutes later they stop and through the noise of the car's engine, she hears him opening an automatic door, then he drives in. finally he opens the boot and she is awakened from her drowsy, frightened state as she looks up into the dimmed light.

'Did you have a pleasant journey, miss?' he asks sarcastically as he pulls her up and out of the dirty boot.

She looks around quickly. The place is huge; next to his car, there is another one parked, an old black Honda and there is room for yet another one. At the back, a chain-link fence runs from wall to wall, with bikes, shelves and scattered rubbish behind it. That is exactly where he is dragging her by her twisted arm. When they reach the darkest corner of the garage, he pushes her back against the wall, her cuffed wrists in front of her.

'Tramp, (his online nickname for her) you look like a fuckin disaster already,' he barks the words into her face 'and I haven't even touched you, yet.' That was not true. He probably already gave her a bruise on her upper arm when he dragged her out of the car and now he is pinning her against the wall with such a force which she could not break. Ever. Not that she would want to.

His face is familiar after many hours spent seeing him on camera. She knows every curl of his lips, every strand of his black hair, his pretended disapproving, stern look, - the one she is faced with now - the raise of his right eyebrow, his half smile, - for which she would walk to hell and back - but everything is more beautiful in 3D. And so real. So fucking real.

Minutes pass as they keep staring into each other's eyes. His brown, otherwise soft and kind eyes are darker now, full of power, full of frustration, suppressed animal need. No, she definitely did not remember seeing that look on him before. And not even in her wildest dreams she imagined the strengths in those arms, that keep her immobile now. She is nothing but a soft playtoy in his hands.

Then he curls the right side of his mouth into that half smile, that usually have that soaking effect on her knickers.

He still can't believe, she is here and just how beautiful she is, with her curly blonde hair, big brown eyes, perfectly shaped eyebrows and long dark lashes. He remembers receiving the first photos of her, thinking what stupid fake photos she sent him and how she laughed at him and jokingly saying, 'Yeah, sure in real life I'm 200 pounds and reeaally ugly.' Then 2 minutes later she has logged onto skype, still giggling and he was blown away.

They were having fun chatting before, but that is when the addiction started. He spent hours looking at those photos, which he now knew were not fakes at all. Maybe, just maybe he wondered they were just slightly photoshopped or filtered as she looked like an immaculate doll on them but somehow a bit lifeless. Webcam was preferred obviously. He even made her purchase a better one. He was truly hooked on her. Sometimes he asked, whether he could just watch her getting on with her day, tidying her room, getting a shower, masturbating... Wow, how he loved that. How very shy she was the first time, barely letting him see anything, but as her confidence grew, she was happy to use her toys and comply with his sometimes strange requests. He loved it.

And this here, was even better. It was real. So fucking real. 

All his to take, to have and to destroy.

He smirked.

'So pretty.' he thought. 'So fucking pretty.' His instinct would be to hold her, to protect her, to love her. She could easily twist him around her finger. Why does she want him to treat her bad then? What would a girl like her know about pain anyway? She looked so innocent, so totally opposite of the picture of the dirty internet slut she painted of herself. He was really confused.

He had to make sure, she was ready for this and it wasn't just a daydream fantasy of her naive, curious mind. Fooling around on camera and doing things in real life were two very different things.

He spins her around now pressing her abs and chest deep into the cold wall. He grabs a fistful of her hair yanking her head backwards. She feels his full body weight against her back as with one hand he still holds her hair downward and with the other hand, having it's very first expedition on her still covered pussy. Just to make sure she will not say no. As much as he is dreading the question, he needs to ask

'Listen, bitch, this is your last chance. Are you sure you want this?'

His tone of voice wakes her, excites her, requests her to say yes, as his forceful digits find their way into her wetness. Of course she wants it, anything. There is absolutely nothing on earth she wouldn't let him do to her.
When they played online, sometimes he surprised her with strange requests she had to do to herself, like pleasing herself with her hairbrush or a spoon, but she never ever rejected. Why would she change her mind now?

'More.' she tries to say as his fingers dance around on her pussy, exploring her, opening her. Nothing comes out of her duct tape covered mouth.

'Waiting for that answer.' he says impatiently inserting more of his fingers into her soaked hole. Then he remembers, that she can't really answer with her mouth taped and her head immobile.

'Just nod.' he says, easing up his forceful hold of her hair. 'Or shake your head... but to be honest it is slightly too late for that choice' he smirks.

She nods. As much as her hair lets her nod.

'I have to say, I'm pleased with your answer. I sincerely hope you will not regret it.'

With that he removes himself from behind her and with her support suddenly gone, she now collapses on the cold concrete floor. She lands quite heavy on her shoulder, arm and elbow. He is striding towards his car, barely looking back or noticing what the 'thud' was about.

She doesn't feel pain and everything feels and looks a bit blurred. Suddenly she remembers the cloth held, forced to her nose and mouth in the car park and her awakening in the boot and the missing few minutes, of how she ended up in the there.

She sits up on the floor still disoriented watching him as he is getting his toolbox from the car. Black jeans and grey shirt, his dark silhouette hardly visible in the distant half-light. He has the aura of a true villain.
Her senses are slowly coming back to her body. She can smell the displeasant odour of petrol, the coldness of the concrete giving her goosebumps. She decides to stand up. They come face to face and again, there is a few moments of silence and staring into each other's eyes.

'No smile. Not even a half one. Nothing in his eyes now, nothing, just a cold stare.'

'No fear in her eyes, not the slightest. She should be scared. She should be'

'I wonder if he has a plan or just making it up as we go along.' 

He lifts up the black and orange toolbox. 'I bet you want to know what's inside.'

'Fuck, he does have a plan.

It's not too late to run'

He opens the tool box with a 'click-click ' and pulls the handcuffs out.

'Now it is too late to run.'

He cuffs one of her wrists and attaches the other end to one of the diamonds of the chain link fence. He wants to make sure she sees the next item he pulls out.

Her blood runs cold. 'It is a spreader bar. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.'

She always fantasised about having one used on her and probably... she must have told him about it, but never in her wildest dreams/ nightmares she thought he is going to use it on her the very first time they meet. 

'Sick, fucking bastard.' she thinks. But as much as she is scared of this unknown experience, her excitement is kind of obvious and she just can't believe he remembered. She certainly hasn't mentioned it more than once.

She feels the cold iron hugging her ankles roughly as he expertly attaches the restraints. Then he adjusts it to the desired width. Desired by him but barely manageable for her. The total inability to do anything about it shocks her and turns her on more than anything ever before. 

When he is finished, he admires his work for a brief second and with the key pulled out of his pocket he opens the handcuffs and ties both of her hands above her head now.

He tears her top apart on her cleavage and hurriedly removes her bra spinning it around her hip, unclipping at the front and tossing it away. Because her wrists are cuffed and her ankles are in the spreader bar, the rest of her clothes have to be cut off. He wastes no time and leans down into the toolbox for a pocket knife to finish the job.

Then he steps back to admire his work once again.

'This is the sexiest fucking sight I've seen in my life.'

She finds his stare a bit intimidating. He seems to be taking in every single detail of her body; the muscles in her arms held up in an unnatural pose, her small tanned breasts with little hard nipples, begging for attention, her cute pussy with just a slight amount of soft hair in a landing strip style and most of them all, her legs spread wide. All the hours spent in the gym perfecting those muscles on her thighs are being payed off now just seeing his approving look on his face.

He wants to kiss those nipples badly, pull on them just a wee bit too roughly, holding them between his teeth. Then bury his head into her cute pussy, inhale her scent, inspect her, to see how open and wet she is again, to taste her, nibble on her folds, her clit. And finger her until she squirts, like she did once on camera. Those are the things, he wants to do to her. But he will not do any of those things.

He takes one more look at her and with a breaking heart he announces:

'Now, that I've seen everything I wanted to see, I am just gonna take, what I came here for.'

His unveiled need and urgency to fuck her and her own helplessness plays havoc between her legs. She involuntarily tries to close her legs to stop her juices running down her legs. Hard restraints remind her ankles, just how impossible that would be.

He pulls out a bottle of lube now, holding it up, making sure she won't miss this cue. First she does not understand.

'I'm fucking soaked here, no need for that.'

'I only came for one thing, babe, one thing.' 

Then she understands.

He squeezes a small blob of the clear gel on the inside of his fingers and with a circling motion of his thumb, he rubs it around them. Slowly. first around his index finger then the middle one - oh so fucking slowly - then his ring finger. He doesn't bother with the little one. 

'Foreshadowing. Fucking, fucking foreshadowing. Fucking sick bastard.' these are the thoughts running through her mind as she shakes her head. He pretends to be looking down on his hands, but secretly watching her from the corner of his eyes grinning to himself.

'What is it?' he asks provocatively, looking at her now, feeding on her panicked state..

She keeps shaking her head then stops, looking at him with eyes as big as saucers and with her brow furrowed.

All her body language is saying. 'Don't you fucking dare.' 

He steps closer, his lubed fingers sliding up and down her abs.

'It looks like someone changed her mind.' He laughs an evil laugh, a deep, throaty one, one she hasn't heard before.

'It's too bad, I do not care.' Just matter of factly.

'See, bitch, how many fucking times, I have to tell you this.' he raises his voice to a level she was unfamiliar with. Most people were in fact. It was kind of scary.

'It is NOT about what YOU want!'

He holds her chin in his hand firmly.

'DO you understand?'

She nods.

She really doesn't know, whether she should be scared now. She has never seen him like that. He either really lost his temper finally or he is a fucking good undercover actor.

Neither. He just knows her too well. He knows exactly which buttons to push.

She is trembling. Completely at this lunatic's mercy.

As he removes the cuff from one of her wrists and turns her around, with the bar between her legs it looks like an ill choreographed dance move or a robotic move of a wind up doll, she wonders what happened to their least deviant fantasies; like having wild sex on a dirty mattress in an old garage or him forcing his cock into her mouth, teaching her how to deep throat (a skill she was yet to aquire). Out of all things why did he have to start with her ass?

Because it was one of her soft limits and he knew that. She hasn't done anal for a long time and even then she probably has done it with the wrong person, who turned out to me an anal maniac, who had nothing else on his mind. She sincerely hoped this one will not turn into one of those. She doubted he will. He will most probably turn into something much worse. 'This is only the beginning.' she reminded herself.

She wasn't expecting roses, candles and a romantic dinner, but it was a bit too much, too soon. For this she just wasn't prepared. 

She wants to scream 'No.' as her hands are being reattached to the diamonds, but just some muffled sound make it to the surface.

He was aware that this was too fast for her. He has made a mental note about all her hard limits and soft limits as they casually chatted about them online a while ago. But he knew she needed this, she needed to learn a lesson.

He is introducing one finger first, ever so gently, but even that one gentle finger makes her spine bolt straight.

'You need to relax,' he whispers in her ears. 'It's gonna be ok, but you need to relax.'

His left hand finds its way around her thigh and gently brushes over her folds. He squeezes some more gel on his hand and goes on to introduce a second digit. She is stretching around them still quite comfortably. Then he withdraws both of his hands. His left reaches out for her hair, collecting all her strands in a pony tail and by pulling it left he turns her head to the right. He kisses her neck and her ear, breathing into it through his nostrils, as if he was about to say something, but he doesn't. He just lets out a long restrained moan.

Then he speaks.

'So many things I want to do to you, you have no idea. Bad things. I want to hurt you.' He is fucking her pussy with three of his fingers, while he talks to her, in his twisted mindfucking way.

'So wet. You are so fucking wet.' He is twisting his digits inside her and probes her with his closed fist.

'Do you want to taste yourself?' he murmurs.

'Oh, I forgot, you can't.'

'Such a shame,' he teases licking his fingers 'because you taste divine.' Seeing him from the corner of her eyes is pushing her right to the edge.

'Now you really need to relax. You know I have quite a big one, and it is going up in your ass soon. All of it.'

He was still fully dressed until now, but one by one he quickly strips his clothes off. Now his naked body against hers, like a blanket, like a perfect, soft, warm talking blanket.

She wants to see him, she wants to speak, she wants to talk to him, to beg him. In a desperate attempt to get rid of the duct tape covering her mouth she rubs her cheek to the wires of the fence. She tries the left side of it, then the right side of it, then a quick sharp pain and all she notices is something trickling down her cheek. It must be blood. She must have cut her face on the wire. The pain is gone now, though.

'Stay still, bitch.' he yells pushing her forward, making her lose her balance, causing her to fall into the rusty wires, her tits poking through the little diamonds. She pulls herself up grabbing the fence and find her posture again with his help.

She is turning her head desperate to see him, all of him, but she can only make out his perfectly toned chest and his shoulder, his arm and a hand that disappears between their bodies, inside her. Inside her ass. She can see the slight movement of his biceps as his fingers explore the inside of her, working their way in and out. 

He sweeps her hair off her shoulder and notices the few drops of blood. He strokes her cheek with the back of his hand.

'You cut yourself.' he says quietly.

She nods, as if to say, 'I know'.

'And you are bleeding.'

She nods again, closing her eyes.

'Do you want me to take off the tape?' 

She opens her eyes excitedly and nods, 'Yes'.

'You will stay quiet.' he demands and pulls off the two strips of tape one by one. They gently pull on her lips when parting with them.

'Thank you.' she exhales through her mouth, as if she was suffocating before.

He wipes the blood off her cheek with the back of his hand.

'Maybe, I should not say this, but seeing you bleed turns me on.' he purrs into her ear, forcing as much of his hand into her as she is physically able to take.

Then he goes on and licks her blood off the back of his hand. 'Maybe it should freak me out,' she thinks 'but it doesn't.' He offers it to her and with just the tip of her tongue, she tastes her own blood. The last time she did this, she was maybe ten.

It doesn't taste like anything. If anything, it tastes like dirt. 

She traces the tip of her tongue up his thumb, then down and up again. Her lips close around his thumb, her tongue guiding it inside. She sucks his thumb, clearly imagining it was something else, making wet, slippery sounds as she goes.

He lets her imagination wander wild for a while, lets her enjoy sucking him off. More than anything, he wants to untie her, push her on her knees and let her work on his cock in the exact same fashion. Maybe with a little less teeth,

But surely that is exactly her idea and she is not going to get it. Not now anyway.

He withdraws his thumb and feeds her his index and middle finger. Sometimes just one of them, sometimes both, taking the control away from her.

His left hand is rubbing her pussy and the crack of her ass, spreading her juices everywhere.

Then he grabs her jaw, with two fingers inside her mouth, his thumb holding firmly from the outside then he thrusts his cock inside her.

She bites on his fingers roughly as she groans.

'Ssshh ssshh.' he whispers into her ear.

'Please,' she begs not releasing, only easing up her bite on his fingers,

He is picking up a faster rhythm as she continues to beg him.

'Do you want my cock, bitch?' he purrs into her ears.

'Yes,' she says hardly audible with his fingers still inside her mouth, between her teeth

'Even in your ass?'

'Yes.'

'Then say it.'

She keeps quiet. Not in the mood to talk. So close, so on the edge.

'So you don't want it?' he teases pretending to pull out.

'I do,' she gasps.

'Then s-say it.' he hisses through clenched teeth forcing himself in full length.

'You are sooo fucking tight. I will not last long.'

'Please come inside my ass. Fuck me hard.'

All it took was seven hard thrusts. He was counting. He wasn't proud of himself, but it was impossible to stop. He let her come too, fucking her pussy with one hand and her mouth with the other, filling up all her holes. It was too much to take for her.

When her muscles contracted on his cock, it was the end of him too. They just couldn't help it; he just couldn't help it.

Her chest was still heaving as he kissed her neck.

'You must have cramps now,' he said and went to quickly remove the buckles off her ankles and wrists. She collapsed onto the floor sitting, hugging her knees.

'Let me get a blanket,' he said 'Don't sit on the cold, dirty floor.'

She laughed.

'What's so funny?'

'Let me get this straight... you knocked me out with god knows what sort of poison, tossed me into your boot, gagged me, put a spreader bar on me and handcuffs, stretched me, tasted my juices, tasted my blood, fucked my ass and now you care about me sitting on the floor.'

He gave a proud smile. 'Then sit on the fucking floor if you please. By the way you missed out the fact that I've cut up all your clothes.'

'Yes, that, too.'

'Do you have any spare clothes?'

'I have a pullover in my car.'

'Ok, take this jacket,' he said pulling a navy raincoat off the back seat of his car, 'And I take you back to your car.' They slowly gathered their stuff and sat in his car. He gave her some wet wipes to clean the blood off of her face.

She was naked under his jacket, which she did not button up yet so when she reached up to fold down the mirror the jacket opened up on her chest.

He was watching her wiping her cheeks and shoulder.

'Remember, when I said that it was my favourite sight, seeing you with the spreader bar, cuffed, naked.'

He got her attention.

'Actually, this is my favourite sight; you, all used up, dirty, blood on your face, my cum in your ass.'

She gave out one of those huffing laughs which is almost like a sneeze.

He shook his head. 'So sexy, so fucking sexy.' Then he drove in silence. 

When his hand was not on the gear stick, it was relaxed on her thigh.

'Can I not go to yours?' she asked after a while.

He looked at her surprised. 'Don't tell me you want some sweet love making now.' he laughed. 'Because, you know, I can't give you THAT.' The pretend horror on his face...

She smiled. 'I'm just too tired to drive home.'

'Hm, babes, the problem is, you see, my ex hasn't moved out yet, so that is not an option.'

By this time they reached the car park and she was getting out of his car.

'But I tell you what, I give you money for a room, you stay there tonight and I might even be able to visit you tomorrow.'

Her eyes lit up. 'Sounds like a plan, but I'm just gonna keep the money you gave me earlier.'

'True. I wasn't really expecting it back though. You deserve it. ' he laughed.

'But one thing... you are not allowed to masturbate,'

She smiled back as she opened the door of her car.

She slept like a log at the Oakwood Hotel.