a bar, old Wurlitzer juke box bashing out tunes from
forgotten years, tables and chairs having seen better days, adverts for beer and cars years out of date, a lone, attractive, young woman somehow out of place sitting in a corner booth.
She sips from a tall glass, trying not to make eye contact with the barman, difficult as they are the only two in the place and he is staring straight at her, undressing her with his eyes, flecks of spittle on his lips.

The stranger strides up to the bar and rests a black, well polished boot on the bar rail, the woman looks up confused, she hadn't heard a door open. She glances quickly in the mirror behind the bar, as the barman, without a word, pours the newcomer a drink. As she looks her gaze is met by a pair of intense green eyes, watching her in the mirror. An involuntary shiver runs through her, such cold eyes she thinks. The stranger turns to face her, she looks down into her glass. She can feel rather than hear the footsteps as he arrives at her table, a gloved hand is placed into her vision.
"Care to dance?"
Should she?

Almost without thinking she finds herself raising a hand, placing it in the leather palm in front of her, strong fingers fold around hers, pulling, cajoling her to her feet. She stands unsure of what to do next, the stranger guides her to a space between some tables that is supposed to be the dance floor, he stops and turns
to her, beckoning her closer, trance like she seems unwilling or unable to resist.

The music starts, a rhythm strong, familiar, pounding, yet calming, she doesn't recognise the song but it is in her memory. The stranger starts to move, to lead, she follows, trying to keep a distance between them but failing, she feels an arm around her waist, a hand on her shoulder, the music in time with their swaying, the touch of a gloved finger on her cheek is electric, one touch, a gentle caress, yet so powerful. Her mind screaming at her to run, to leave, but her senses bid her stay, to relax, to melt in the arms that now hold her. What should she do? Her feet start to move, matching the movements of her partner, as each beat echoes through the bar their bodies slip closer together, she can feel his hot breath on her neck, her head resting on his chest can her the heart beating within, slow, strong pulses, contrasting with the fluttering that is within her breast. She can feel a hand slowly stroking her rump through her tight leather
pants. Oh my God, she thinks , How do I tell him to stop? or do I?

As she dances she notices the barman has gone, but dismisses it knowing no barman is going to leave their stock unattended. The hand stroking her buttocks pulls into her cheek, the fingers gripping tightly. She raises her head, seeing the green eyes again, she starts to protest, "Hey, Stop tha..." the words
blocked mid sentence by a pair of urgent lips pressed to hers, the lips nibble and pull at her mouth, almost at once she responds her soft tongue darting between her full lips probing the mouth pressed to hers.

The hand on her shoulder slides slowly down her arm, to her wrist and then back to her neck, still the music sets the pace for their movements, he pulls her hips to his, her pelvis crushed against muscular thighs, again her mind shouting at her to stop, her body yelling more. She slips her arms inside his grip and
pushes against his chest. "I think the dance is over know" she says. How will he react?
Like a striking snake his hands grab her wrists before she can remove them from his chest, as one they are pulled behind her back as the stranger takes control, she struggles with her shoulders, trying to pull her arms free, all she does is rub her breasts against him, her nipples respond to the friction, pink
buds stiffening inside her shirt, the stranger grabs both her wrists with one hand, the other reaches to his belt buckle and starts to undo it. With a practised movement the stranger removes his belt and before she can protest the woman's hands are bound tight behind her, the leather belt cutting into her wrists each time she tries to free herself. Eyes open wide in panic as she realises just how helpless she is. The stranger pushes against her forcing her back until the back of her legs bang into a table. She thinks "I'll scream, yes that's it, I'll scream" Her mouth opens but she can't make a sound, the sight of the tungsten steel bladed hunting knife has robbed her of all noise.
She can only watch as he puts the blade to the bottom of her shirt and then keeping the material taut moves the knife upwards. The razor sharp blade cuts silently, slicing the shirt in two, exposing her full bosom restrained in a white lace bra, as the neckline is cut he pushes the torn shirt off her shoulders and
down her arms, gently he runs the blade down her collarbone, down and across the top of her breasts letting it fall naturally into the valley between the firm globes, with a deft flick of the wrist the lace is cut, her breasts fall into view, nipples still erect, warm flesh swinging against the cold steel, she tries to hold her breath to stop her breasts from rising and falling against the metal,
looking down she sees a thin sliver of red appear on her ivory skin, she hadn't felt any pain, yet she was bleeding.
The thin line of scarlet tracked across her breast and down to a nipple where a single drop hung like a crimson tear, the stranger bent his head and slowly, savouring the moment, touched her nipple with his tongue, the blood mingled with the fresh saliva and ran into his mouth. His tongued danced and teased her nipples to erection, then alternating tender kisses with sharp, nibbling bites, pain and pleasure so close to each other, not fully appreciating one without the other. She gasped, almost imperceptibly, as yet again her body craved the attention being paid to it by the mouth and hands of her assailant. A fresh red teardrop had formed again on her nipple, this time the stranger caught it on a gloved fingertip, he lifted it to her eyelevel and then pressed it to her mouth. she could taste the bitter leather of the glove but on top of that a sweet,warm taste that belonged to her.
The stranger stood upright and looked down at her, the green eyes still cold, not a flicker of emotion stirred in them. Words formed in her head, "Please let me go, don't hurt me, you have had your fun and I promise I'll never breathe a word of this." But the words never became spoken, it was if the man had the power to render her speechless at will. She felt his hands on her hips turning her to face the table, panic erupted in her, she wrestled with her bonds, fighting back the tears as the pain of the belt cutting into her
wrists filled her thoughts. But the firm grip on her sides never wavered and a strong hand in her back pushed her face down on the scrubbed pine table top. She could smell the stench of a thousand spilled beers ingrained in the wood, the weight of her body and the push of the stranger squashed her breasts against the rough timber, as she stared at the stained surface she could feel the stranger undoing the buttons on the waistband of her leather pants and the realization of what was going to happen suddenly hit her.

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Strength in depth

I believe your most attractive features are your heart and soul